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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


*  J 


.^- 


^"    


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

GEO.  CARLETON, 

lu  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  Tork. 


U'CEEA  A  MILLER,  STEKEOTTPEES 


INTRODUCTORY    NOTICE. 

BY   THE  AUTHOR    OF    "  ST.    I-EGEE." 

We  cannot  advise  any  mere  man  or  woman  of 
fashion,  young  or  old,  to  take  up  this  vohime. 
Neither  the  one  nor  the  other  will  be  interested 
in  it,  for  neither  will  have  the  taste  to  appreciate 
its  contents,  unless  perchance  some  such  person, 
in  a  moment  of  ennui,  should  be  attracted  by  the 
freshness  of  the  descriptions  and  the  novelty  of  the 
scenes  to  run  through  its  pages;  as  a  reigning  belle 
sometimes  stops  to  regard,  with  a  mixture  of  envy 
and  admiration,  the  natural  bloom  which  mantles 
the  cheek  of  a  fine,  unsophisticated  country  girl : 
but  this  is  exceptional. 

There  are  those  who  will  peruse  this  book  with 
pleasure  and  satisfaction.  "Whoever  loves  garden, 
andgrove,  and  shrub,  and  vine,  finding  enjoyment  in 
all  the  gifts  of  our  kindly  mother  earth,  will  lay  hold 
of  it  with  avidity.     Such  will  be  pleased  to  learn 


519'?B'; 


(SOGH-'JilY 


4  I  N  r  R  O  D  U  C  T  O  K  Y       N  C)  T  I  C  E  . 

wluit  Nature— not  the  stern  old  parent  of  our  ]^ortli, 
but  Nature  young  and  prodigal  and  Eden-like, 
brings  forth  in  the  charmed  circle  of  her  tropical 
home.  These  have  taste  and  a  fine  appreciation, 
aud,  we  may  hope,  the  opportunity  to  gratify  both. 

To  another  class  still,  this  work  will  specially 
commend  itself;  to  that  class — alas!  its  members 
are  numerous — who  yearn  after  the  happiness  of  a 
home  without  means  or  the  hope  of  means  to  acquire 
one;  who  have  become  wearied  and  discouraged  by 
years  of  incessant  effort  and  overwork,  without 
any  prospect  of  breaking  the  fetters  which  bind 
them  to  their  destiny,  and  which  are  forged  but 
too  securely.  They  will  find  a  way  of  escape  by 
perusing  this  romantic,  but  truthful,  narrative. 

"  lu  the  Tropics"  is  the  twelve-month  record  of 
a  young  man  who  for  a  number  of  years  was  a 
clerk  in  a  large  mercantile  establishment  in  this 
city.  Finding  that  without  friends  or  capital  it 
was  nearly,  or,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  quite  impossi- 
ble ever  to  accomplish  any  thing  on  his  own 
account,  and  that  he  was  becoming  daily  more 


Tntrodhctory     Kotioe.  5 

unfitted  for  any  other  occupation  ;  warned  too 
by  the  misfortunes  of  an  elder  brother,  he  resolved 
to  quit  the  city,  while  health  and  vigor  still  re- 
mained to  him,  and  seek  a  home  elsewhere.  He 
gives  his  reasons  for  deciding  to  go  to  Santo 
Domingo,  and  this  volume  is  the  history  of  his 
first  twelvemonth's  experience  in  that  island, 
being  brought  down  to  the  1st  of  January  of  the 
present  year. 

The  work  is  written  with  a  simplicity  ab- 
solutely fascinating,  reminding  one  of  the  finer 
passages  of  Defoe.  The  record  of  his  daily 
routine  on  his  little  estanoia  of  forty  acres 
is  so  minute  in  detail,  and  so  interesting  by  its 
freshness,  that  we  find  ourselves  unconsciously 
sharing  all  the  hopes  and  fears  of  the  young 
American  farmer.  We  are  anxious  about  the 
success  of  every  experiment,  and  rejoice  at  every 
turn  of  good  fortune  which  befalls  him. 

The  descriptions  of  the  persons  our  hero  en- 
counters are  so  vividly  drawn  that  the  reader 
at   once   feels  at  home   with  them.     Don  Julio 


6  I  X  T  K  O  D  U  C  T  O  R  Y       N  O  T  I  C  E  . 

Perez  becomes  our  friend  as  well  as  the  friend 
of  "  Scuor  Vecino."  We  embrace  Don  Delfino 
again  and  again  as  we  experience  liis  fresh 
acts  of  kindness,  almost  daily  repeated.  The 
friendly  services  of  Juan  G-arcia  go  straight  to 
our  heart,  especially  if  we  take  into  account  the 
active  benevolence  of  his  "  lily  of  a  wife"  (black 
though  she  be),  tlie  officious,  bustling,  and  gossip- 
ing Anita.  These  worthy  people  seem  to  have 
taken  the  "  innocent  lamb  of  a  stranger"  under 
their  special  protection,  and  well  do  they  perform 
their  trust. 

To  us,  however,  Tio  Juanico  is  the  picturesque 
character  of  the  scene.     He  is  thus  described  : 

"  His  dark  Indian  face,  with  its  gentle  mouth 
and  sadly  earnest  eyes,  was  not  uncomely,  and  his 
shapely  head,  with  its  mass  of  jetty  hair,  was  real- 
ly noticeable  in  its  fine  proportions ;  but  both  his 
back  and  breast  had  a  peculiar  and  ungainly  prom- 
inence, amountino;  to  deformity.  Aside  from  this 
he  was  a  muscular,  well-limbed  man,  in  the 
strength  of  his  age,  and,  as  I  soon  saw,  as  ready  as 


Introductory     Notice.  1 

lie  was  capable  for  hard  work.  His  voice  was 
strikingly  clear  and  musical,  but  it  had  the  same 
expression  of  patieut  sadness  whicii  looked  out  of 
his  eyes." 

Juanico  becomes  the  servant,  friend,  and  faith- 
ful man-Friday  of  the  New  Yorker,  and  makes 
one  of  the  most  charming  points  in  the  volume.  To 
finish  the  picture,  we  have  narrated  with  almost 
ludicrous  fidelity  the  story  of  the  perfidious  native 
choppers  who  stole  all  our  friend's  satin-wood ; 
then  an  account  of  the  "  man  Andres"  and  his 
shrewd  spouse,  who  were  so  sharp  in  the  matter 
of  cocoa-nut  sprouts ;  while  the  aflair  of  the  swind- 
ling mason,  who  attempts  to  take  advantage  of  the 
"  Senor's"  necessities,  goes  to  confirm  the  old  adage, 
that  "  human  nature  is  pretty  much  the  same  the 
world  over." 

But  we  must  leave  these  fascinating  scenes  that 
the  reader  may  the  more  speedily  enter  on  them. 
Before  we  do,  however,  we  earnestly  solicit  the  at- 
tention of  every  reflecting  person  to  this  single 
paragraph.     Writes  the  young  "  settler  :" 


8  Intkoduotory     Notice. 

"  The  moat  manly  workers  I  have  seen  in  this 
country  are  white  men.  Under  the  toarm  sun  of 
the  troj)ics^  lohite  worhing  men  and  machinery 
will  yet  open  the  grandest  field  of  civilization  ever 
realized.'''' 

A  serinon,  a  lecture,  a  treatise  are  bound  up  in 
these  two  sentences.  Let  tiie  thoughtful  reader 
weigh  them  well. 

It  is  proper  to  observe,  that  we  received  the 
manuscript  for  this  volume  from  an  esteemed 
friend  in  Santo  Domingo  City.  To  us  has 
belonged  only  the  agreeable  task  of  making  some 
trifling  revisions  for  the  press,  which  the  absence 
of  the  author  prevented  being  done  in  person. 

New  York,  June,  1863. 


OOI^fTEI^TS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

How  I  came  to  leave  New  York. — Why  I  went  to  Santo  Domingo. — The 
voyage. — Arrival  at  the  town. — Am  introduced  to  Don  Leonardo  Delmonte. — 
A  hospitable  reception. — Kesolve  to  strike  for  the  interior. — An  unexpected 
greeting. — An  old  settler. — What  he  advises. — Start  on  foot  for  Palenque. — 
Visit  to  Don  Julio  Perez. — What  comes  of  it. — I  purchase  a  small  farm  and 
take  possession Page  1 3 

CHAPTER    II. 

JANUARY. 

First  night  on  my  farm. — Happy  surprise  in  the  morning. — A  singular  arri- 
val.— Kesolve  to  turn  it  to  account. — Engage  the  services  of  Juan  and  Anita 
Garcia. — Tent-making. — Juan  assists. — Preparations  for  supper  by  Anita. 
— My  new  avenue. — Orange  and  lime  groves. — An  unnecessary  fright. — 
Faithfulness  of  Juan. — The  spring  grove. — My  garden. — What  it  contains. 
— How  we  fenced  it. — American  plough  and  other  implements. — Astonish- 
ment of  the  natives. — The  old  cabin. — What  I  did  in  one  month 82 

CHAPTER    III. 

FEBRUARY. 

A  call  from  Don  Julio  Perez. — Transplanting  vegetables. — Juan's  curiosity. — 
Cutting  logwood. — My  success  in  clearing. — Another  visit  from  Don  Julio. 
— Agi-eeable  result. — Washington's  birthday. — How  I  celebrate  it. — Anita's 
breakfast  for  Don  Julio  and  myself — My  Buena  Vista.— Mysterious  coiifer- 
ence  between  Juan  and  Anita. — Preparations  for  an  orange  grove. — Juan's 
amazement. — Success  of  my  garden   58 


10  Contents. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

MARCH. 
Fruits  and  flowers. — Charuis  of  tropicnl  life. — A  visit  fiom  Juan's  cousins. — 
■What  thty  wanted. — A  strange  "baptism." — Preparations  for  faaftinrr. — 
Startled  by  the  appearance  of  a  crowd  around  my  tent. — The  "  con  vita." 
— My  "neighbors  and  well-wishers." — Grafting  performed  in  presence  of  a 
large  company. — Pronounced  a  "  miracle." — The  great  feast. — My  address. — 
How  responded  to. — Jose  Eavela. — We  resolve  to  make  a  road  to  Palenque. 
— Don  Julio's  surprise. — He  promises  assistance. — The  road  finisheil. — 
Ignorance,  not  industry,  debasing... , Page  76 

CHAPTER    V. 

APRIL. 

Plonghing-match  at  Don  Julio's. — Stupid  native. — Unrnty  oxen. — An  un- 
looked-for assistant. — Don  Delflno  de  Castro. — Achieve  a  great  victory. — 
Compliments  and  congratulations. — Eeturn  to  Buena  Tista. — Important 
changes. — An  "  Eden  of  tranquillity." — A  guest  tor  the  night. — He  proposes 
to  remain  longer. — Camp  cooking  and  coffee-making. — Compact  with  Don 
Delflno. — What  we  do  together. — His  man  Isidi-o. — Beautiful  appearance 
of  my  orange  avenue. — Plentiful  showers. — Fragrant  blossoms. — Crowning 
triumph  of  my  garden 98 

CHAPTER  YI. 

MAT. 

Fresh  encouragement. — Site  for  a  new  house.  —  The  Mango  Avenue. — A 
"  trifling  incident." — A  rustic  gate. — A  shipwrecked  sailor. — WTiat  in  search 
of. — Visit  from  Captain  Eamircz  of  the  "Alice." — Satisfactory  solution  of  a 
puzzling  question. — A  market  for  my  vegetables. — Don  Julio. — Ambitious 
projects. — Picturesque  scenes. — Twenty-two  kinds  of  fiuits  on  my  home- 
stead.— An  alluring  picture. — An  important  addition  to  my  revenue. — I 
hire  two  native  woodmen. — The  "New  Field." — Grateful  acknowledg- 
ments      120 

CHAPTER   YII. 

JUNE. 
Eapid  growth  of  vegetation. — No  labor  equal  to  white  labor. — 'What  machinery 
will  do  in  the  tropics. — ^National  breads    of   the  Island. — Description    of 
the  casa/oa  and  the  arapa. — Indian  fashion  of  baking. — Tuca  and  yams. — 


Contents.  11 

Delightful  visit  from  Delflno. — He  discovers  a  new  treasure. — A  spirited 
discussion. — Kesolve  to  maintain  my  "humble  independence." — Delflno 
propost  s  an  October  banquet. — Where  to  come  off. — Am  greatly  surprised. — 
Visit  to  the  wood-cutters. — Delflno's  anger. — An  imhappy  discovery. — How 
the  difliculty  is  arranged.  —  Mahogany. — Satin-wood. —  A  new  cottage 
resolved  on. — How  it  was  planned Page  143 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

JULY. 

My  palenca. — Active  preparations. — Kindness  of  Delflno  and  Don  Julio. — 
Manuel,  the  carpenter. — Description  of  my  new  cottage. — A  sudden  appari- 
tion.— Tio  Juanico. — Sanchez,  the  lime-burner. — Juanico's  history. — Engage 
him  to  work  for  me. — His  mysterious  disappearance. — Is  he  faithless? — 
Abrupt  return. — Juanico  wounded. — His  distress. — What  I  do  for  him. — 
Cost  of  building. — The  sea-breeze. — Fourth  of  July,  how  we  celebrate  it. — 
The  grand  feast. — Yuca  and  yautilia. — My  corn  crop. — Abounding  wealth 
of  vegetables 167 

CTT AFTER   IX. 

AUaUST. 

A  drawback  not  altogether  surprising. — A  warning  to  new-comers. — How  1 
paid  for  Tay  experience. — Plantain  walk. — Different  varieties  of  bananas. — 
My  riaianal. — Industry  of  Juanico. — His  brilliant  strateg}'. — Felix  Tisada. 
— Exhibit  my  improvements. — Amazement  of  the  Dominican. — A  proposal. 
— I  take  advantage  of  It. — Overwork  myself. — Awake  feverish  and  in  pain. 
— Anita's  advice. — Simple  remedies. — .Juanico  and  Felix  wish  to  call  a  physi- 
cian.— Each  knows  a  worthy  doctor. — They  disagree. — Decide  to  employ 
neither.—  My  rapid  recovery. — Valuable  hints 189 

CHAPTER   X. 

SEPTEMBER. 
Famous  yield  of  sweet  potatoes.— Contr.act  with  Captain  Eamirez. — The 
Captain  becomes  alarmed. — His  fears  quieted. — Anita's  transactions  with  the 
natives. — Cocoa-nut  grove. — Its  Importance. — Am  in  great  perplexity. — 
Juanico  plays  the  diplomat. — Felix  comes  to  my  relief. — An  amusing 
scene. — A  friendly  contest. — Sale  of  the  "cultivator." — What  Felix  under- 
takes.— How  Felix  is  swindled. — My  despair. — A  fresh  comer  in  the  scene. 
— Arrival  of  IJosa  Dalmeyda. — Her  mission. — How  we  arrange  matters.- - 
Success  at  last 215 


12  C  O  K  T  E  N  T  S  . 

CHAPTER    XI. 

OCTOBER. 

Triunipb  of  Folix. — Anspicions  return  of  Juanico. — His  unwonted  jrayety. — 
How  accounted  for. — Don  Delfino  imports  a  Stump-Eitiactor.— Great 
excitement  in  the  neighborhood. — We  muster  onr  forces. — How  we  obtain 
recruits. — The  process  of  stump-extracting. — Anita's  coll.ition. — Private 
dinner  in  the  North  Arbor. — Don  Julio  appears  again. — Fresh  attack  on  the 
enemy. — Close  of  the  contest.— The  '-Extractor"  victorious. — Delfino's 
invitation. — I  accept  it. — !Iis  plantition. — "What  we  do  there Page  243 

CH  AFTER    XII. 

NOVEMBER. 

Finish  my  visit. — Delfino  surprises  me. — We  both  return  to  Palenque. — Ex- 
pected important  arrivals. — Anita. — Fishing-day. — ''Yankee  Charles,  of 
Baltimore." — His  history. — American  newspapers. — The  "  Strangers"  Eest." 
— All  Saints'  day. — Favorable  omen. — Improvise  a  bee-hive. — Arrival  of 
agricultural  implements. — All  grievously  disappointed. — Dishouesty  of  the 
"  house"'  in  New  York. — A  warning  to  buyers. — Juanico  and  his  garlic- 
bed. — Yisit  from  Manuel,  the  carpenter. — Furniture  from  my  own  ma- 
hogany grove 2G1 

CHAPTER    Xin. 

DECEMBER. 

The  ripening  com. — ^Hoe-husbandry. — Unbroken  succession  of  crops. — Plans 
for  the  future. — ^Affectionate  fidelity  of  Juanico. — Attempt  to  finish  my 
cottage.  —  Dishonest  mason.  —  Unlooked-for  disappointment.  —  What  I 
resolve  to  do. — Jnanico's  proposition. — Felix  comes  to  my  relief. — The 
lime-burner. — Cottage  finished. — Delfino  appears  suddenly. — What  he  in- 
sists on. — Preparations  for  a  Chi'istmas-tree. — ^Everybody  to  be  invited. — 
Site  selected. — The  company  assemble. — ^We  celebrate  Chiistmas  joy- 
ously   281 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
By  way  of  explanation , 302 


IN     THE     TROPICS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


IIow  I  came  to  leave  New  York. — "Why  I  went  to  Santo  Domingo. 
— Tho  voyage. — Arrival  at  the  town. —  Am  introduced  to  Don 
Leonardo  Delraonte. — A  hospitable  reception. — Resolve  to 
strike  for  the  interior. — An  unexpected  greeting. — An  old 
settler. — What  he  advises. — Start  on  foot  for  Palenque. — ^Visit 
to  Don  Julio  Perez. — What  comes  of  it. — I  purchase  a  small 
farm  and  take  possession. 

I  WAS  Loru  and  reared  on  a  large  farm  in  the  heart 
of  the  State  of  New  York,  and  all  my  tastes  are  for 
the  independent  life  and  tranquil  occupations  of  the 
country.  Nevertheless,  it  was  my  destiny  to  strug- 
gle for  a  livelihood  several  years  within  the  crowded 
walls  of  a  city  estabUshment,  and  that  with  so  little 
success,  that  the  end  of  each  season  found  me  no 
nearer  an  independence  than  the  beginning. 


14:  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

I  h:ul  not  vcntuved  to  many  on  siich  prospects  ; 
but  my  only  brother  b.id  loved  better,  or  more  suc- 
cessfully, jiorbiips,  and  taken  to  himself  a  wife.  He 
had  the  misfortuue  to  lose  her  some  two  years 
ago,  and,  wearied  of  a  series  of  discouraging  cir- 
cumstances, which  seemed  to  create,  with  every 
effort  to  improve  his  condition,  only  a  fetter  the 
more,  he  proposed  to  seek  a  new  home  in  the  Far 
West. 

He  has  three  boys,  whom  he  desires  to  educate  in 
such  a  manner  that  they  may  become  industrious, 
self-helping,  and  independent  men,  equally  removed 
from  booi'ish  ignorance  and  elegant  imbecility.  As 
a  poor  man,  he  did  not  see  his  way  clear  to  accom- 
plish this  in  a  large  city.  Among  the  cheap  lands 
and  growing  population  of  the  West  it  was  more 
possible,  and  he  warmly  solicited  me  to  move  with 
him  in  the  direction  of  the  setting  sun. 

I  was  more  than  willing  to  cast  behind  me  the  dust 
of  the  city  ;  but  for  various  reasons  I  preferred  seek- 
ing a  home  in  some  high,  healthy,  and  accessible 
region  of  tropical  America,  to  beginning  anew  in  the 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  15 

equally  distant,  more  trying,  and  less  profitable  fields 
of  Minnesota. 

After  weighing  all  the  facts  before  las,  to  the 
best  of  our  ability,  we  decided  to  cast  our  future 
lot  in  Santo  Domingo,  as  it  had  the  advantage, 
unhappily  denied  to  the  Spanish  American  republics, 
of  a  stable  government,  at  peace  with  all  other 
nations. 

I  volunteered  to  be  the  pioneer  in  the  work  of 
finding  and  making  ready  our  new  home,  and  I  set 
about  my  preparations  without  delay. 

I  left  New  York  on  a  biting,  gusty  morning,  early 
in  December,  and  after  a  pleasant  passage  of  fourteoi 
days,  landed  at  Santo  Domingo  City,  amid  the  balmy 
air  and  bright  verdure  of  a  Northern  June.  All  na- 
ture revelled  in  an  overflowing  wealth  of  fruits  and 
flowers  and  foliage.  The  people  were  moving  about 
in  light  summer  dresses,  and  the  store  doors  and 
house  windows  were  wide  open  to  admit  the  fresh 
sea-breeze. 

The  novelty,  and,  perhaps  still  more,  the  bright 
contrast  of  this    delicious  climate  with   the  wintry 


16  Life     in     St.    Domingo, 

rigors  of  our  northern  latitucles,  prepossessed  me  at 
once,  and  strongly,  in  favor  of  this  new  country. 

I  rcmainofl,  however,  but  one  day  in  the  city  of 
Santo  Domingo.  An  American  firm  there  has  })ro- 
vided  some  native  cottages  on  the  heights  overlook- 
ing the  town,  for  the  transient  accommodation  of  im- 
migrant families  coming  over  in  their  vessels.  lu 
one  of  these  I  obtained  a  corner  of  refuge  for  myself 
and  my  few  effects,  while  I  cast  about  me  for  the 
choice  of  a  final  abiding-place. 

A  Cuban  gentleman,  residing  in  Xew  Yorlv,  who 
has  travelled  extensively  in  Mexico  and  Central 
America,  as  well  as  in  the  West  India  Islands,  had 
recommended  Santo  Domingo  as  ofiering,  on  the 
whole,  more  advantages  to  a  farmer  or  mechanic, 
emigrating  from  the  United  States,  than  any  other 
country  of  tropical  America. 

This  advice  confirmed  me  in  my  ow^n  opinion  ;  so 
I  followed  it  the  more  readily. 

Besides  advice,  my  friend  favored  me  with  a  let- 
ter of  introduction  to  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of 
Delmonte,  who,  I   soon   learned,  was  a   member  of 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  IT 

one  of  the  old  patrician  families  of  the  island.'  He 
is  a  notary  public,  an  office  of  trust  and  distinction 
under  Spanish  law  ;  and  at  the  special  request  of  the 
official  and  commercial  representative  of  the  "States" 
in  this  country,  he  keeps  a  list  of  the  most  desirable 
landed  properties  offered  for  sale,  for  the  benefit  of 
American  immigrants  in  quest  of  homesteads. 

I  presented  my  letter,  and  requested  his  advice. 
Don  Leonardo  Delmonte  received  me  with  the 
obliging  suavity  of  a  high-bred  gentleman,  and  freely^ 
laid  before  me  the  details  of  the  numerous  proper- 
ties he  had  in  charge  ;  but  none  of  them  came  within 
the  scope  of  my  narrow  means. 

They  were  chiefly  sugar  estates,  or  large  tracts  of 
mahogany  and  logwood  forests,  altogether  beyond 
the  possibility  of  my  means  of  purchase,  but  it  occur- 
red to  me  that  some  one  of  them  might  be  obtainable 
on  a  long  lease.  I  stated  my  situation  frankly,  and 
asked  Don  Leonardo  what  he  thought  of  the  chances 
of  hiring  a  farm. 

"  There  would  be  no  difficulty  in  getting  a  place," 
he  answered,  after  hearing  me  out  with  kindly  atten- 


18  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

tioii.  "•  But  AAiiy  not  strike  nt  once  into  the  interior, 
and  buy  a  small  farm  on  time  ?  With  the  farming 
implements  in  your  possession,  and  your  experience 
in  agriculture,  you  can  pay  for  your  laud  in  a  few 
years,  and  mean-while  be  shaping  your  homestead  to 
your  taste." 

"  This  was  my  plan  in  coming  here,  but  the  prices 
of  land  seem  formidably  high,"  I  said,  doubtingly. 

"  Yes,  immediately  around  the  city  land  is  high ; 
but  a  short  distance  back  it  is  almost  as  cheap  as  the 
public  lands  of  the  United  States." 

Don  Leonardo  has  studied  our  laws,  language,  and 
institutions,  and  understands  them  like  a  native. 

"  What  particular  section  of  the  country  would  you 
advise  me  to  settle  in,  Don  Leonardo  ?"  I  asked,  after 
a  moment's  pause. 

"  That  depends  on  what  you  propose  to  make  the 
jjrincipal  feature  of  cultivation,"  he  replied.  "We 
must  reflect  a  little  on  what — all  things  considered — 
is  Ukely  to  suit  you  best." 

We  stood  a  long  time  before  a  map  of  the  Island 
of  Hayti,  and,  vnih  Don  Leonardo's  copious  notes  of 


Life     in     St,    Domingo.  19 

description  in  hand,  discussed  the  several  specialties 
and  various  gifts  of  San  Cristoval,  Bani,  and  Azua  to 
the  west,  and  of  Macoris,  Romana,  and  Samana  to  the 
east ;  but  not  one  of  the  many  fine  corn,  cotton,  coiFee, 
and  sugar  estates  was  within  my  reach,  for  none  on 
his  list  were  offered  in  small  lots,  and  I  left  the  office 
of  the  polite  notary  in  perplexity  and  irresolution. 

I  liad  turned  my  steps  toward  my  temporary  quar- 
ters, to  think  over  in  quiet  all  I  had  heard,  and  come 
to  some  settled  resolution  as  to  the  direction  I  should 
pursue  in  my  search  for  a  home,  when  a  trifling  inci- 
dent concluded  my  hesitation  and  determined  my 
future  course. 

I  was  walking  slowly  along  a  side  street,  anxiously 
revolving  my  next  proceeding,  when  a  horseman 
rode  by  at  a  brisk  pace,  and  dismounted  at  the  door 
of  a  tidy  cottage,  a  few  paces  ahead.  As  I  came  up 
I  heard  the  joyous  welcome  of  wife,  and  children 
poured  forth  in  such  a  flood  of  hearty,  homely  Eng- 
lish that  it  arrested  my  attention,  and  half  uncon- 
sciously I  paused  for  a  moment  to  look  in  on  the 
happy  scene. 


20  Life     in     St,    Domingo. 

The  wide  door  opened  into  a  neat,  well-furnished 
room  on  a  leA^el  with  the  street,  and  a  lively  party  of 
friends  and  kindred  were  grouped  around  the  newly 
arrived,  Avitli  the  warmest  expressions  of  affectionate 
welcome.  They  were  all  colored  people,  yet  their 
dress  and  every  item  of  their  surroundings  bespoke 
at  a  glance  easy  circumstances  and  somewhat  of  cul- 
ture. 

Recollecting  myself,  I  was  about  to  pass  on  my 
way,  with  a  bow  of  mute  apology  for  my  aLru[)t  pause 
at  the  open  door,  when  the  master  of  the  house  saw 
me,  and  interrupted  his  account  of  the  state  of  friends 
at  Bani  and  Palenque — which,  from  my  recent  con- 
versation with  Don  Leonardo,  I  caught  up  M-ith  a 
thrill  of  peculiar  interest — to  step  forward  and  ask 
me  if  there  was  any  thing  in  which  he  could  serve 
me.  I  excused  my  breach  of  decorum  by  frankly 
stating  tiiat  I  was  a  stranger  just  landed,  and  that 
the  grateful  and  unexpected  accents  of  my  native 
land  had  for  an  instant  arrested  me  at  his  door. 

"Ah,  su","  said  the  man,  in  the  most  respectful  tones, 
"the  American  language  is  always  hke  sweet  mu^ic 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  21 

to  rae,  too.  I  have  lived  here  near  on  to  thh-ty  yeai's, 
and  with  God's  help  have  done  very  well  in  Santo 
Domingo ;  but  there  is  no  treat  for  me  like  seeing 
a  gentleman  from  the  States,  and  hearing  of  their 
great  doings  in  steamboats,  and  railroads,  and  tele- 
graphs." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  exchange  information  with 
you,"  I  replied. — "The  latest  news  from  the  United 
States  against  your  old  experience  in  the  nature  and 
capabilities  of  this  country." 

"I  am  a  plain,  hard-AVorking  man,  without  much 
education,"  said  Brooks — that  was  the  name  of  my 
new  acquaintance — "  but  I  have  had  plenty  of  rough 
experience  here,  and  if  any  thing  I  know  about  this 
country  can  be  of  use  to  you,  sir,  I  shall  be  proud 
to  do  you  a  service." 

Here  was  the  very  man  I  needed. 

This  sensible  old  settler,  with  his  thirty  years  of 
practical — or,  as  he  called  it,  rough  working-man's 
— experience  of  soils,  seasons,  and  localities,  was 
worth  more  to  me,  a  poor  toiling  beginner,  than  vol- 
umes of  scientific  dissertation,  fit  only  for  rich  men 


22  L  I  bm:     in     St.    D  o  >[  i  n  g  o  . 

who  were  able  to  cany  out  large  plans  with  full 
hands.  Moreover,  lie  had  just  returned  from  a  long 
visit  to  Bani  and  Palenque,  both  inviting  places, 
thirty  and  forty  miles  to  the  westward  of  Santo  Do- 
mingo, to  which,  from  among  other  points,  rich  in 
cotton  and  sugar  lands,  Don  Leonardo  Delmonte  had 
called  my  attention,  as  distinguished  for  pure  air  and 
healthy  water. 

ISTot  desiring  to  trespass  on  Brooks's  good-nature 
at  this  moment  of  re-union  with  his  family,  I  de- 
clined the  arm-chair  his  wife  hastened  to  press  on  my 
acceiJtance,  and  confined  the  questions  I  was  eager 
to  flood  him  with  to  one  or  two  about  the  places  he 
had  just  visited.  His  answers  were  extremely  sug- 
gestive. 

"  Palenque,"  he  said,  with  animation,  "  is  the  love- 
liest situation,  and  has  the  finest  harbor  to  be  found 
anywhere  on  the  south  coast  of  Santo  Domingo,  be- 
tween this  city  and  Azua." 

"  Tou  ought  to  know  this  coast  by  heart,"  I  said, 
with  a  smile  at  his  earnestness. 

"  You  may  well  believe  it,  sir.     I  have  learned  it 


L I F  i<:     IN     St.    Domingo.  23 

like  A,  B,  C,  by  cutting  and  loading  mahogany,  and 
other  woods,  to  ship  at  every  inlet  and  landing  from 
here  to  the  Ilaytian  line." 

"  And  what  is  your  opinion,  Brooks,  of  this  dis- 
trict for  farming  ?" 

"  As  to  that,  I  can  assure  you,  sir,  that  all  along 
the  coast,  about  Paleuque,  Bani,  and  Azua,  is  a 
beautiful  level  country,  with  fine  savannas  for  pasture 
back  towards  the  hills.  It  is  rather  dry  some  seasons, 
but  very  healthy." 

"  And  how  about  the  fruits  ?"  I  hiquired  with  in- 
terest. 

"Plenty  of  fruits,  sir — two  or  three  kinds  for  every 
month  in  the  year,  for  the  people  v.'ho  will  take  the 
trouble  to  plant  them.  But  that,  you  know,  is  the 
case  everywhere  in  this  region." 

"  Only  one  question  more.  Brooks,  and  then  I  will 
leave  you  to  enjoy  the  comj^any  of  your  family,  with 
many  thanks  for  your  obliging  information." 

"  Please  don't  speak  of  it,  sir.  It  is-  such  a  pleasure 
to  us  all  to  have  a  few  words  with  an  American." 

"  Well,  my  remaining  question  is  about  the  price 


24  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

of  fanning  land.  Do  yon  know  how  it  ranges  in 
that  direction?" 

"Not  exactly,  sir.  It  must  be  cheap  enough, 
though,  for  most  of  it  lies  waste,  overgrown  with 
monte  thicket." 

"  For  want  of  inhabitants,  perhaps  ?"  I  suggested. 

"  Xot  that  alone,  by  any  means,"  replied  Brooks, 
"To  be  sure,  the  j^eople  are  not  very  thick  there- 
abouts, but  there  is  enough  of  them  to  do  something, 
if  they  knew  ichat  to  do,  and  how  to  do  it,  for 
themselves  and  their  beautiful  lands.    But  they  don't." 

"  Yes,  I  am  told  the  Dominicans  are  not  very 
scientific  farmers." 

"  Scientific,  s^ir !  Why,  bless  the  poor  souls,  there 
is  not  one  in  a  hundred  would  know  a  plough  from  a 
wheelbarrow,  if  you  were  to  put  them  down  together 
on  their  dinner-table.  That  is,"  added  Brook.*,  in  a 
more  subdued  tone,  "  if  these  rancheros  ever  used 
such  fixings  as  a  regular  dinner-table." 

"  Why,  Brooks,  I  cannot  imagine  the  possibility 
of  farming  without  ploughs,  and  wheelbarrows  too, 
for  that  matter." 


Life     in     St.    Domingo,  25 

'•That  is  because  you  are  an  American,  sir;  but 
you  will  soon  see  for  yourself  that  the  whole  of  this 
beautiful  country  is  in  a  dead  sleep,  for  want  of  these 
ploughs  and  such  like  helps  to  break  up  the  hard 
crust,  and  let  out  the  life  that  really  is  in  the  land." 

"Well,  I  think  I  can  promise  to  show  you,  some 
day  or  other,  an  American  plough  in  motion,  with 
an  American  ploughman  at  the  handle,  trying  his 
best  towards  waking  up  some  little  corner  of  this 
sleeping  soil." 

On  this  we  parted  for  the  day;  but  in  the  evening 
Brooks  called  to  mention  that  Don  Julio  Perez,  a 
wealthy  proprietor,  a  few  miles  beyond  Palenque, 
wanted  to  lease  several  farms  on  "shares,"  or  at  a 
aominal  rent,  for  a  term  of  years,  to  American  farm- 
ers. It  had  occurred  to  him  that  possibly  this  gen- 
tleman would  sell  me  a  small  tract  of  fifty  or  sixty 
acres  on  very  easy  terms,  as  he  was  bent  on  getting 
some  people  about  him  who  really  understood,  farm- 
ing. 

I  took  down  the  address  of  this  proprietor,  and  in 
the  morning  went  with  it  to  Don  Leonardo,  the  no- 


26  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

tary,  to  learn  whether  this  property  Avas  on  his  list 
of  lands  for  sale.  It  was  not,  hut  the  owner,  Don 
Julio  Perez,  was  his  personal  friend,  and  he  offered 
to  give  me  a  letter  to  him  if  I  chose  to  go  and  see 
the  place.  I  gratefully  accepted  the  offer ;  the  let- 
ter was  written  on  the  spot ;  and  I  went  back  to 
my  temporary  home  with  a  light  step,  to  prepare  for 
the  trip. 

Arranging  with  Brooks  to  forward  my  effects  to 
Palenque  by  a  coasting  vessel,  in  case  I  decided  to 
rcTiiain,  I  took  my  staff  and  scrip,  and  set  out  on 
foot  for  the  land  of  promise,  the  third  morning  after 
my  arrival  in  Santo  Domingo. 

It  was  a  long  day's  walk  to  Palenque,  but  the 
green  and  smiling  landscape  begxiiled  the  hours,  and 
the  sun  was  yet  an  hour  high  when  I  arrived  at  the 
door  of  Don  Julio's  country  house.  I  sent  in  the 
letter  by  a  servant,  and  scai'cely  had  the  time  ne- 
cessary to  read  it  passed,  when  a  slender,  graceful, 
bright-eyed  man  presented  himself  with  a  cordial 
welcome.  I  read  many  signs  of  hope  in  his  clear 
brow,  well-shaped   head,  and  mellow  voice.       Gc7i- 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  27 

tleman  was  written  on  every  line  of  liis  face,  and 
in  every  movement  of  his  slight  but  well-formed 
person. 

The  letter  of  his  friend,  Don  Leonardo  Delmonte, 
had  briefly  explained  the  object  of  my  visit,  and  he 
entered  into  the  details  of  farming  life  in  the  United 
States  with  an  eager  and  intelligent  interest.  I 
stated  to  him  my  exact  situation,  and  did  not 
attempt  to  conceal  the  narrowness  of  the  means  on 
which  I  founded  my  presumptuous  plan  of  creating 
for  me  and  mine  an  independent  homestead.  Don 
Julio  was  not  willing  to  sell  his  land  ;  but  he  said 
there  was  a  corner  strip  of  something  like  forty 
acres,  with  a  small  clearing,  and  the  ruins  of  an  old 
cabin  upon  it,  which  he  would  consent  to  part  with 
to  an  American  farmer  who  would  engage  to  settle 
upon  it  at  once. 

The  next  morning  I  arose  with  the  sun.  I  spent 
a  busy  and  anxious  day  running  over  the  land. 
It  was  rather  well  timbered,  with  patches  of  heavy 
undergrowth  here  and  there,  but  generally  open 
and   grove-like.      The    best   point  was  that  directly 


28  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

around  tho  old  cabin — a  perfectly  free  space  of  not 
less  than  two  acres  in  extent,  bordered  by  some  very 
large  fruit-trees. 

Don  Julio  bad  named  Lis  price — one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars,  payable  in  one  year.  After  this  brief 
survey  of  tlie  ground,  I  went  back  in  the  evening  to 
say  to  him  that  I  accepted  the  terms  and  would 
like  to  enter  into  possession,  in  order  to  go  to  work 
immediately. 

"  Bnt  this  is  the  dry  season,"  said  Don  Julio. 
"  From  the  middle  of  December  to  some  time  in 
April  you  cannot  rely  upon  rain  enough  to  bring  out 
any  crop  whatever  that  is  not  put  in  as  early  as 
November." 

"  But  the  ground  is  to  be  cleared,"  I  said. 
"  Fences  are  to  be  made,  and  some  kind  of  shel- 
ter must  be  put  up  for  farming  animals  and  im- 
plements, and  this  serene  season  seems  to  afford  the 
very  best  weather  for  that  kind  of  work." 

"  Very  true,  there  is  plenty  of  work  suitable  for 
each  season  of  the  year,"  was  in  substance  Don 
Julio's  reply,  "  but  few  in  this  country  either  care 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  29 

or  know  how  to  regulate  their  business  so  as  to  do 
the  right  thing  at  the  right  time." 

"  Everywhere  in  this  world,  the  only  way  to  win 
good  returns  for  your  labor  is  to  work  with  system 
and  forethought,  and  I  must  tiy  to  learn  the  best 
way." 

"  But  you  cannot  live  on  your  place  at  present  ?" 
said  Don  Julio,  interrogatively.  "  You  must  secui'e 
a  few  servants,  and  build  yourself  a  cottage  before 
you  can  possibly  settle  on  your  estanclaP 

"  I  shall  patch  up  the  old  cabin  for  a  shelter,  and 
be  my  own  servant  until  I  feel  my  way  to  something 
better,"  I  answered,  resolutely. 

"  Well,"  returned  Don  Julio,  with  one  of  those 
hapjjy  turns  of  expression  which  converts  into  a 
compliment  what  an  ill-bred  man  would  treat  as  a 
disparaging  circumstance  ;  "  "Well,  if  you  are  resolved 
on  that  course,  I  can  only  say,  that  the  man  who  has 
the  courage  to  walk  from  Santo  Domingo  here,  in 
one  day,  to  find  a  farm,  and  who  examines  the  ground 
and  completes  the  purchase  on  the  next,  is  not  likely 
to  fail  in  any  thing  he  undertakes." 


30  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  compliment,  Don  Julio,  and 
will  accept  it  as  an  encouragement  to  persevere  in 
my  scheme  of  single-handed  farming." 

On  this  we  retired  for  the  night,  and  before  my 
liost  was  awake  in  the  morning,  I  was  on  the  road 
to  my  estcmcia,  with  a  machete  and  hand-axe  on  my 
shoulder,  to  repair  as  best  I  might,  with  these  bor- 
rowed implements,  the  old  cabin,  and  clear  the  small 
grass-plot  around  it  of  the  encroaching  weeds. 

A  week  later  I  had  planted  myself  in  the  old  cabin 
— the  merest  apology  for  a  shelter — on  the  land  I 
had  bargained  for,  and  had  written  for  my  boxes 
and  farming  things  to  be  sent  to  me  by  one  of  the 
little  craft  plying  along  the  coast. 

This  ruin  of  a  cabin,  the  two  acres  of  cleared 
ground,  more  or  less,  with  some  fragments  of  the 
native  evergreen  fence  of  Maya  around  them,  were 
all  the  improvements  on  the  place.  Tet  I  entered 
hopefully  upon  the  task  of  converting  this  bit  of 
wilderness  into  a  well-cultivated  homestead. 

Partly  at  Don  Julio's  suggestion,  and  partly  to 
aid  my  memory,  when  I  wished  to  recall  how  my 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  31 

work  succeeded  iu  its  season,  but  most  of  all  to 
have  some  record  which  might  serve  a  little  to  guide 
the  first  steps  of  other  new  settlers,  I  began  from 
the  first  to  take  notes  of  what  Avas  atteiuj)ted,  and 
what  done,  as  each  month  came  and  went  in  its 
course. 

After  mending  the  thatched  roof  of  the  cabin,  and 
cutting  away  the  straggling  brush  around  it,  I  was 
ready  to  receive  my  farming  implements  and  the 
small  stock  of  provisions  which  I  had  left  to  be  sent 
on  by  water.  Until  they  arrived  I  slept  under  the 
hospitable  roof  of  Don  Julio. 

At  the  close  of  the  last  week  of  December,  the 
coasting  sloop  Alice  landed  my  goods  at  Port  Pa- 
lenque,  together  with  a  small  cart.  It  was  a  mere 
hand-cart,  in  fact,  which  I  had  fitted  with  shafts  on 
the  voyage,  but  it  was  my  "  chiefest  treasure,"  and  ] 
loaded  on  it  the  balance  of  my  worldly  gear,  and  walk- 
ing by  the  side  of  the  donkey  I  proceeded  with  humble 
rejoicing  to  my  home.  I  slept  there  for  the  first  time 
New  Year's  Eve,  and  that  night  I  commenced  my 
new  life,  and  this,  its  faint,  imperfect  record. 


32  Life     in     St.    D  o  ]si  i  n  g  o  . 


CHAPTER  n. 


JANUARY. 


First  niglit  on  my  farm. — Happy  surprise  in  the  morning. — A 
singular  an-ival. — Resolve  to  turn  it  to  account. — Engage  the 
services  of  Juan  and  Anita  Garcia. — Tent-making. — Juan  as- 
sists.— Preparations  for  supper  by  Anita. — My  new  avenue. — 
Orange  and  lime  groves. — An  unnecessary  fright. — Faithfulness 
of  Juan. — The  spring  grove. — My  garden. — What  it  contains. — 
How  we  fenced  it. — American  plough  and  other  implements. — 
Astonishment  of  the  natives. — The  old  cabin. — What  I  tUd  in 
one  month. 

I  THREW  myself  in  my  hammock  for  my  first  night's 
rest  in  my  new  home,  with  an  indescribable  sense  of 
responsibility,  yet  with  a  keen  sensation  of  delight  in 
the  free  and  self-reliant  existence  I  had  chosen.  But 
the  fatigue  of  bringing  home,  and  partially  unpack- 
ing and  putting  in  place  even  my  limited  stores, 
was  sufficient  to  overpoAver  the  excitement  of  my 
novel  position,  and  I  was  soon  buried  in  profound 
repose. 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.  33 

There  was  no  door  left  on  tlie  cabin,  and  as  I  open- 
ed my  eyes  in  the  morning,  I  looked  down  a  green 
slope,  and  through  an  arcade  of  waving  branches,  on 
a  cluster  of  lime-trees,  dotted  with  stars  of  golden 
fruit.  Under  the  shade  of  those  limes,  and  encii'cled 
with  trees  of  larger  growth,  bubbles  a  spring  of  cool, 
delicious  water. 

On  this  green  slope,  half-way  between  the  spring 
and  the  old  cabin,  I  decided  to  pitch  my  sleeping- 
tent. 

It  was  ISTew  Year's  day,  a  day  of  festival  through 
all  Christendom,  yet  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  not 
enjoy  it  until  I  had  set  up  my  tent  and  entered  for- 
mally into  occupation. 

I  made  my  cofiee,  and  had  my  truly  happy  New 
Teai''s  breakfast  in  the  luxurious  company  of  my  own 
thoughts,  projects,  and  anticipations  for  the  long 
round  of  twelve  mouths  now  ojiening  with  this  bright 
and  genial  morning. 

After  breakfast  came  the  business  of  setting  up 

the  tent.     lu  bringing  it  with  me  from  New  York,  I 

thought  to  use  it  for  a  temporary  dwelling  on  my 
2* 


3i  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

intended  purchase,  should  there  happen  to  be  nothing 
better  to  be  found  in  the  shape  of  shelter.  It  came  in 
good  stead,  for  it  leaves  the  cabin  free  for  kitchen, 
storehouse,  and  workshop,  and  affords  me  a  cleanly 
and  acceptable  refuge  for  my  hours  of  rest  and 
relaxation. 

Congratulating  myself  on  my  comfortable  pros 
pects,  I  was  quite  satisfied  to  regard  tent-raising  as  a 
holiday  enjoyment,  and  set  about  it  with  a  zest. 
While  I  was  cutting  some  forked  sticks  to  strengthen 
it  stoutly,  I  happened  to  look  round,  and  saw  a  very 
black  and  very  taU  man,  making  his  way  through  the 
bushes.  He  approached  with  a  smiling  face  and  a 
profusion  of  complimentary  bows,  which  liquefied,  as 
it  were,  into  a  torrent  of  friendly  words  as  he  met 
my  extended  hand. 

He  brought  on  his  back  a  macuta — one  of  the 
woven  baskets  of  the  country — filled  with  oranges, 
plantains,  bananas,  and  limes,  which  he  tendered  to 
me  with  an  air  of  hearty  satisfaction — on  the  part  of 
his  wife. 

I  had  to  ask  my  visitor  his  name,  for  these  Domin- 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  35 

icans  rarely  use  any  form  of  introduction,  either  in 
presenting  themselves  or  any  one  else  for  acquaint- 
ance, and  learned  that  it  was  Juan  Garcia,  my  near- 
est neighbor  on  the  road  to  Bani,  and  that  he  had 
come  to  offer  his  services  and  those  of  his  family,  if 
there  was  any  thing  in  Avhich  he  could  be  useful 
to  me. 

Don  Julio  Perez  had  named  this  man  to  me  as  the 
most  willing  and  industrious  laborer  in  my  vicinity  ; 
and  so  lie  has  proved,  for  he  has  worked  with  and 
for  me  the  most  of  the  month,  in  a  truly  faithful  and 
thoroughly  helpful  manner. 

In  return  for  his  acceptable  gift  of  fresh  fruits,  I 
could  only  cJffer  Juan  a  portion  of  the  poor  luncheon 
of  crackers  and  dried  fish  which  I  had  laid  out  for 
my  OAvn  frugal  meal.  So  far  was  my  new  friend  and 
neighbor  from  slighting  this  more  than  Spartan  ban- 
quet, that  he  asked  permission  to  take  what  I  had 
given  him  to  his  wife ;  and  when  I  threw  a  handful 
of  sea-biscuit  into  the  inacuta  for  his  children,  he  be- 
came perfectly  resplendent  in  ivory  and  eloquence. 
He  assured  me  that  his  Anita  was  a  superior  cook 


36  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

and  an  nneqiialled  washer  of  fine  linen,  and  in  either 
capacity  was  wholly  at  my  service,  volunteering  to 
bring  her  over  in  tlie  afternoon  to  convince  me  of  her 
abilities  in  these  lines  of  utility. 

These  are  homely  details ;  but  all  the  daily  wants  of 
life  press  hardly  on  new  settlers,  and  the  ready  help 
of  Juan  and  Anita  has  been  a  comforting  aid  to  my 
restricted  efforts. 

Juan  showed  himself  an  alert,  willing,  and  service- 
able man,  on  this  the  very  first  morning  of  our  ac- 
quaintance. He  had  a  ready  hand  for  every  thing. 
He  gave  me  some  instruction  about  the  value  of  the 
noble  trees  skirting  the  cleared  space  while  he  plied 
the  machete  among  them.  His  timely  assistance  en- 
abled me  to  settle  the  posts  and  quickly  rear  my  tent 
in  the  selected  spot,  under  the  shade  of  those  im- 
mense old  fruit-trees,  evidently  the  relics  of  a  former 
settlement. 

The  ground  slopes  gently  down  from  the  cabin  to 
this  group  of  trees  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  where 
they  encircle  the  spring  in  a  symmetrical  grove. 

When  the  tent  Avas  up,   Juan  proceeded   to  cut 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  37 

some  leaves  of  tlie  fan-pnlm,  and  bound  them  into  a 
broom  with  a  strong,  cord-Hke  vine,  wliich  he  calls 
bahuca  y  with  this  escoha  he  swept  up  the  earth  floor 
of  the  tent  as  deftly  as  a  woman,  while  I  arranged 
my  boxes  for  seats  and  stretched  my  hammock  into  a 
commodious  sleeping-cot.  This  done,  I  surrendered 
myself  to  a  couple  of  hours  of  noontide  repose,  and 
Juan  went  home. 

It  was  a  sweet  rest,  though  I  was  too  much  inter- 
ested to  sleep ;  and  with  deep  thankfulness  to  oui 
Father  in  Heaven  for  the  prospect  before  me,  ] 
looked  out  of  the  raised  curtain  of  my  cool,  airy  tent 
through  the  arcade  of  protecting  trees,  and  planned 
my  next  work. 

It  was  a  bold  invasion  into  my  shallow  purse  to 
engage  a  man,  so  early  in  my  career;  but  that 
straggling  and  broken  circuit  of  Maya  hedge  re- 
quired a  native  hand  to  manage  it,  and  I  decided  to 
bargain  with  Juan  for  a  week's  assistance  in  fencing 
in  a  house-lot. 

He  had  gone  home  to  carry  my  munificent  gifts  of 
dried  herring  and  sea-biscuit  to  his  wife  and  children, 


38  Life    in     St.    Domingo, 

but  lie  did  not  fail  to  return  towards  evening  with 
his  Anita.  She  is  a  laughing,  buxom  body,  full  of 
talk  and  curiosity,  but  strictly  respectful,  and  fully  as 
anxious  as  her  husband  to  prove  herself  an  obliging 
neighbor.  Their  little  girl,  Teresa,  is  a  bright  and 
restless  child  of  ten,  black  but  comely,  and  she  natu- 
ralized herself  on  my  premises  from  that  day  forward. 
Few  noons  pass  without  Teresa  darting  her  round 
head  between  the  curtains  of  my  tent  on  some  mes- 
sage from  her  parents,  or  to  ask  some  trifling  favor 
on  her  own  account,  but  she  is  never  in  the  way.  The 
other  child,  a  boy,  younger  than  Teresa,  I  see  little 
of ;  and  as  he  is  a  busy  little  imp  of  mischief,  I  am 
not  sure  that  I  would  be  sorry  were  I  not  to  see  him 
at  all. 

Anita  brought  with  her  a  cake  of  cassava  bread 
and  some  chocolate,  which  she  asked  permission  to 
prepare  at  the  fire  I  had  kindled.  It  was  evident 
they  came  to  get  ready  my  sohtary  supper.  I  of 
course  consented,  and  in  a  short  time  she  emerged 
from  behind  the  old  cabin,  where  I  have  established 
my  kitchen,  carrying  before  hei',  tray- wise,  a  piece  of 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  39 

a  box  cover,  on  whicli  rested  some  unknown  articles 
hidden  from  sight  by  a  clean  white  cloth. 

I  have  arranged  my  bread-barrel  in  my  tent,  where 
it  does  duty  as  a  reading  table,  and  on  this  Anita 
placed  her  board  tray,  and,  drawing  oft'  the  white 
covering,  displayed  a  plate  of  toasted  cassava,  two 
boiled  eggs,  a  boiled  pigeon,  and  a  frothing  cup  of 
chocolate.  She  begged  me  to  excuse  her  boldness  in 
requesting  me  to  taste  these  things  "  for  the  sake  of 
the  New  Year,  and  the  poor  neighbors  who  loved 
gentlemen. " 

I  accepted  the  simple-hearted  oifering  with  sincere 
thankfulness,  for  it  was  pleasant  to  begin  the  year 
with  such  tokens  of  good-will  from  those  about  me. 
Besides,  however  lowly  their  station,  it  was  in  their 
power  to  serve  or  annoy  me  in  no  small  degree,  just 
as  the  caprice  to  like  or  dislike  should  happen  to  seize 
them. 

While  these  little  matters  were  occupying  my  par- 
ticular attention,  Anita  joined  her  husband  and  child 
outside  the  tent,  but  in  such  a  position  that  she  could 
watch  and  serve  me  with  a  finishing  glass  of  water-, 


40  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

and  lake  away  the  remnants  when  the  meal  Avas 
done.  That  over,  I  went  into  a  long  line  of  questions 
Avith  Juan  about  the  mode  of  cutting  fencing-stuff, 
and  handling  that  formidable,  long-leaved,  and  thorny- 
edged  Maya.  This  Maya  is  a  bright  evergreen  and 
durable  hedging  material,  and  there  Avas  enough  of  it 
to  enclose  a  space  three  times  as  large  as  the  present 
clearing,  if  it  could  be  transplanted  and  set  out  in 
order. 

Juan  readily  undertook  to  remoA'e  the  Maya  to  the 
place  I  should  mark  out  for  it,  either  this  month  or  a 
little  later  in  the  season.  Maya  is  one  of  the  hardiest 
of  plants,  and  Avill  live  CA^en  Avhen  throAvu  out  on  top 
of  the  ground  ;  but  it  takes  root  quicker  and  grows 
better  if  transplanted  after  a  rain.  Just  then,  Juan 
was  not  prepared  to  make  any  promises  about  work ; 
he  and  his  donkey,  he  said,  were  engaged  in  haul- 
ing some  fustic  to  the  bay  of  Palenque  for  shipment, 
but  that  should  not  prevent  him  assisting  me  to  re- 
pair the  old  hedge,  or  clear  the  line  for  the  new  one, 
as  soon  as  I  might  decide  on  which  plan  I  should 
adopt. 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  41 

Before  I  slept  I  had  come  to  a  decision.  I  would 
enlarge  the  space  around  the  cabin  so  as  not  only  to 
include  all  the  broken  line  of  hedge,  and  bring  in  the 
groups  of  fruit-trees,  scattered  all  along  the  whole 
circuit,  but  also  to  take  within  it  the  gentle  rise  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  spring. 

This  piece  of  ground  I  had  noticed  as  a  dark,  rich 
loam,  free  from  stones  and  full  of  small  open  patches, 
indicative  of  former  cultivation.  This  will  give  me  a 
home  lot  of  seven  or  eight  acres  to  put  in  cultivation 
with  the  early  spring  rains,  and  with  this  plan  for  a 
starting  point  fairly  fixed  in  my  mind,  I  committed 
myself  to  the  care  of  my  Heavenly  Father  and  sunk 
to  rest. 

I  awoke  with  the  dawn,  and  hastily  sprang  from 
my  cot  to  begin  the  labors  of  the  day.  As  my  foot 
touched  the  ground  I  recoiled  with  dismay,  for  I  had 
stumbled  upon  a  human  form,  stretched  at  full  length 
across  the  entrance  of  the  tent.  The  figure  rolled  off 
the  blanket,  and,  rising,  presented  the  countenance 
of  Juan  Garcia. 

"  Why,  how  came  you  here — and  asleep  ?"  I  de- 


42  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

inauded  in  astouisliment.  "How  long  Imve  you 
been  here  ?'' 

"All  night,  Seiior.  I  left  Anita  with  the  children, 
and  came  back  to  keep  the  Seiior  company.  I  thought 
the  Seiior  would  be  sad  and  sohtary  by  himself,  since 
he  was  a  stranger  here." 

"  It  was  kind  in  you,  Juan  ;  but  I  never  heard  you 
ataU." 

"  Xo,  Seiior,  you  were  asleep,  so  I  only  said,  '  May 
God  protect  him,'  and  lay  do^m  softly  on  the  ground 
by  your  hammock,  and  slept  until  this  moment." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  good-will,  Juan  ;  but  I  am 
not  afraid,  and  would  rather  not  take  you  from  your 
famUy  to  sleep  here." 

The  poor  fellow  has  in  a  manner  adopted  me  as  his 
own,  and  without  ever  ceasing  to  be  obedient  and 
respectfid  in  his  service,  he  assumes  an  amusingly 
parental  tone  and  style  when  watching  and  waiting 
on  my  wants.  He  is  withal  an  excellent  hand  in  the 
work  2)eculiar  to  the  coimtry,  as  I  learned  to  my  sat- 
isfaction while  we  were  trimming  and  cutting  away 
the  wild  \anes  and  underc^rowth  under   the   noble 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  43 

group  of  trees  around  the  spring.  They  are  all 
fruit-bearing  trees,  and  now  that  they  are  carefully 
pruned,  and  the  ground  canopied  by  their  wide- 
spreading  branches,  well  cleared  of  every  thing  but 
its  soft  carpet  of  "  velvet  grass,"  the  "  Spking 
Gkove,"  as  I  am  proud  to  call  it,  is  a  noble  feature 
in  my  home  landscape.  I  did  not  know  the  value  of 
this  magnificent  group  of  trees  until  Juan  informed 
me  that  morning  what  they  all  were.  He  particular- 
ly called  my  attention  to  two  of  them,  loaded  with 
round  green  fruit,  which  he  told  me  was  the  famous 
cahnete.  This  fruit  ripens  early  in  February,  and 
holds  on  through  all  March,  and  sometimes  deep  into 
April.  Its  rich,  delicious  pulp  has  been  hapj)ily  com- 
pared to  "  peaches  crushed  in  cream."  From  the 
two  or  three  which  I  have  already  enjoyed,  for  mine 
arc  now  ripening,  I  think  this  delicate  fruit  deserves 
all  the  praise  lavished  upon  it. 

Stimulated  by  the  happy  discovery  that  it  was  a 
superb  fruit-grove,  instead  of  a  cluster  of  wild  forest 
trees,  which  shades  my  tent  and  the  beautiful  spring 
slope  before  it,  I  could  hardly  keep  to  the  rule  I  had 


44  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

laid  down,  to  quit  hard  out-door  work  at  eleven. 
Juan  worked  with  me  at  clearing  with  steady  good- 
will, cutting  away  the  brush,  lopping  off  the  dead 
limbs,  and  piling  up  the  trash  for  burning ;  and  be- 
tween us  we  had  given  a  different  aspect  to  the 
Spring  Grove,  and  to  the  green  borders  of  the  spi'ing 
itself,  before  we  left  them. 

Juan  carried  home  his  share  of  my  plain  dinner, 
and  after  his  departure  I  sought  my  hammock  for  an 
hour  of  rest  and  reflection.  I  wanted  to  consider 
what  I  should  do  first  of  all  in  the  way  of  providing 
for  my  support  when  the  stock  of  provisions  should 
be  exhausted.  It  is  the  dry  season,  and  crops,  that 
is  to  say,  products  in  quantities  intended  for  sale, 
could  not  be  started  at  this  time  of  year.  "Whatever 
was  already  a  month  in  the  ground,  and  well  imder 
way,  so  that  the  roots  could  find  a  little  moisture  be- 
low the  surface,  would  keep  on  growing  and  ripen- 
ing. 

"  Oh,  that  I  had  come  out  in  October,"  I  thought. 
"  Had  I  been  here  with  the  fall  rains,  I  might  have 
had,  at  least,  a  vegetable  garden  very  well  advanced." 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  45 

Then  arose  the  question : — "  But  may  I  not  even  now 
prepare  and  so\V  a  bed  willi  a  part  of  the  seeds  I 
brought  with  me?  By  dint  of  care  and  watering, 
can  I  not  gain  a  month  or  two  on  the  dry  season,  and 
raise  a  few  vegetables  for  my  own  table  ?"  As  I 
asked  myself  these  things,  I  was  answered  in  my 
own  mind  that  it  was  well  worth  the  experiment. 

Yes,  I  would  start  a  seedlmg  bed  without  delay, 
and  before  the  seeds  were  out  of  the  ground,  Juan 
and  I  might  have  the  old  fence  so  far  repaired  that  I 
need  fear  nothing  for  my  young  plants.  I  could  not 
remain  in  my  hammock  after  this  idea  seized  me.  I 
was  anxious  to  begin,  and  besides,  the  site  I  had  se- 
lected would  be  partially  in  the  shade,  and  pleasant 
for  work  early  in  the  afternoon. 

Before  two  o'clock,  my  hour  for  commencing  the 
afternoon  labors,  I  had  got  my  tools  ready  and  had 
marked  off  a  bed  ten  feet  long  and  four  wide,  on  the 
east  side  of  the  old  cabin.  On  the  west  side  is  my 
kitchen,  and  the  south  looks  towards  my  tent.  I 
chose  the  east  to  give  it  the  benefit  of  the  morning 
sun,  and  yet  secure  it  some  shelter  from  the  scorch 


46  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

ing  afternoons.  AVith  my  pick-axe,  hoe,  and  rake,  I 
had  managed  to  got  this  rich  bit  of  ground  in  pretty 
thorough  tilth  when  Junn  and  his  wife  dropped  in 
upon  me,  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Their 
amazement  was  almost  beyond  words.  "To  work 
in  the  dry  season !  To  work  so  much  on  such  a  Httle 
bit  of  ground.  To  work  \nth  so  many  tools."  They 
both  stood  and  rung  the  changes  on  these  singular 
innovations  upon  their  mode  of  cultivation,  until  they 
were  out  of  breath. 

Juan  took  my  want  of  experience  in  serious  com- 
passion. 

"  Do  you  know,  Seuor,"  he  asked,  impressively, 
"  that  in  our  climate  nothing  you  plant  in  the  dry 
season  bears  fruit  until  the  rains  come  on,  unless  you 
water  it  many,  many  times  ?" 

"  But  I  intend  to  water  what  I  sow  in  this  bed  as 
often  and  as  much  as  is  necessary  to  bring  the  plants 
forward.  I  want  to  eat  of  these  vegetables  tvro 
months  earlier  than  I  can  have  them  if  I  vrait  for  the 
settled  rains." 

" But  do  they  take  so  much  troiible  in  ^our  coun- 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  47 

try  to  have  a  feAv  young  beans  and  tomatoes  in  March 
when  you  can  Iiave  them  without  any  trouble  in 
May?"  asked  Juan,  in  undisguised  wonder  at  such 
absurd  practices. 

"  Why  not,  Juan  ?  We  can  have  nothing  in  this 
world  without  trouble  and  sacrifice." 

Juan  and  Anita  were  by  no  means  convinced  of 
the  wisdom  of  my  course,  but  they  very  cheerfully 
brought  water  from  the  spring  and  gave  the  seedling 
bed  a  plentiful  bath,  while  I  put  in  the  little  rows  of 
ocra,  onion,  tomato,  and  egg-plant  destined  for  future 
transplantation,  alternated  by  like  rows  of  lettuce  and 
radishes,  which  are  to  remain  in  final  possession  of 
the  ground  they  now  occupy  until  called  to  the  table. 

By  the  time  all  the  seed  was  duly  covered  in  the 
little  rows,  and  I  had  finished  off  the  bed  with  a  row 
of  "  early  bush  beans"  at  the  outside  edge,  it  was 
dusk,  and  Anita  called  me  to  a  pleasant  supper  of  her 
own  arrangement.  While  the  supper  and  the  seed- 
ling bed  were  simultaneously  receiving  the  last  touch- 
es of  preparation,  Anita,  who  had  become  intensely 
interested  in   both,   kept  running  from  one   to   the 


48  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

other  in  au  amusing  flurry  of  baste  and  excite- 
ment. 

"  Ah,  Maria  Purissima !  what  a  variety  of  seeds, 
and  all  marked  out  in  such  order.  Will  it  please  the 
Senor  to  come  to  supper  ?  The  rice  cooked  in  cocoa- 
milk  is  perfectly  ready.  But  to  think  of  seven  kinds 
of  vegetables,  all  set  in  beautiful  ro^vs  like  the  seven 
cardinal  vu'tues,  and  the  whole  to  be  fed  with  water 
through  the  dry  season.     Wonderful !  wonderful !" 

Anita's  distribution  of  the  "  seven  cardinal  virtues" 
was  as  incomprehensible  to  my  understanding,  as  my 
disposition  of  the  seven  vegetables  seemed  to  hers ; 
but  not  choosing  to  expose  my  ignorance,  I  went 
into  supper  without  asking  any  questions. 

After  Juan  and  Anita  had  attended  to  theirs,  we 
held  a  council  on  the  condition  of  the  fences,  and  the 
propriety  of  immediately  clearing  a  few  more  acres 
of  land,  for  the  double  purpose  of  eulargmg  my 
planting  space,  and  of  obtaining  a  supply  of  wood  to 
enclose  it. 

In  conclusion,  Juan  agreed  to  work  for  me  four 
days  in  the  week  for  the  next  six  or  eight  weeks,  at 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  49 

half  a  dollar  a  day.  He  reserved  two  days  in  the 
week  for  his  own  clearing  and  planting,  which  he  said 
he  should  conduct  partly  on  the  native  plan  and  part- 
ly on  mine,  for  he  wanted  to  learn  "  American  ways," 
and,  most  of  all,  the  use  of  the  "Yankee"  plough,  of 
which  he  had  heard  surprising  things  from  persons 
who  had  seen  it  tearing  up  the  ground  in  Cuba  and 
Porto  Rico. 

Finally,  assuring  me  that  I  could  depend  upon  his 
coming  to  me  with  the  sun  the  next  day,  Juan  and 
his  wife  went  to  their  home,  and  left  me  to  my  soli- 
tary slumbers. 

Juan  was  foithful  to  his  word,  and  the  work  of 
fencing  in  the  space  intended  for  the  Home  Field  was 
begun  in  earnest.  Two  sides — those  forming  the  line 
of  my  property  on  the  north  and  west — are  to  be 
guarded  by  a  Maya  hedge  and  were  left  for  the  last. 
The  other  two  sides  will  be  partition  fences,  if  I  am 
fortunate  enough  to  carry  out  my  present  plans,  and 
those  we  have  closed  in  with  aj^alisar  or  stake  fence. 

A  Dominican  palisar  is  a  very  simple,  yet,  if  well 

made,  a  very  eflective  affair.     Stout  stakes  are  driven 
8 


50  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

firmly  into  the  earth  at  short  intervals,  and  crossbars 
are  woven  in  and  bound  to  them  with  strong  and 
durable  vine-stems,  which  are  called  bahuca. 

As  fast  as  Juan  and  I  cleared  the  ground  we  laid 
up  the  posts  and  bars,  and  bahuca,  and  collected 
all  the  brush,  which  was  too  small  for  service,  in 
heaps  for  burning. 

The  last  week  of  the  month,  Juan  and  half  a  dozen 
boys,  whom  he  had  collected  from  I  know  not  where, 
made  a  perfect  holiday  of  bonfires  of  it,  and  my  first 
field  stands  ahnost  ready  for  planting.  There  still 
remains  a  strip  of  tangled  undergrowth  where  the 
old  fence  ran,  but  it  is  a  perfect  nursery  of  young 
fruit-trees,  which  I  wish  to  trim  out  and  transplant 
when  the  season  permits.  January  is  the  inonth  of 
months  for  cutting  timber  and  clearing  new  ground 
for  crops,  and  it  has  been  fully  occupied  with  its  ap- 
propriate work. 

There  were  three  very  heavy  rains  in  the  early 
part  of  the  month,  and  under  their  favor  I  made  a 
melon-patch  back  of  the  old  cabin,  and  a  much  larger 
one  by  the  sj)ring,  of  the  savory  Dominican  calabazas. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  51 

They  are  all  thriving,  and  so  is  a  triple  row  of  pole 
beans  on  each  side  of  the  path  to  the  spring. 

Anita  conies  over  every  day  or  two  to  admire  the 
progress  of  the  seedlhig  bed,  which  is  now  well  ad- 
vanced, and  to  count  up  what  varieties  of  vegetables 
I  have  under  way.  She  has  herself  smuggled  parsley, 
thyme,  and  coriander  seeds  among  my  beans,  and 
reckons  them  up  with  the  melons  among  the  vegeta- 
bles. She  proposes  to  make  a  "  superb  soup"  for 
Easter  Monday,  in  which  they  are  all  to  figure,  I  be- 
lieve,— melons,  cucumbers,  and  coriander  included. 

Now,  at  the  close  of  the  month,  I  can  fully  realize 
how  fortunate  it  has  been  for  me  that  I  began  my 
farming  experience  in  Santo  Domingo  in  the  serene 
month  of  January.  It  is  really  the  first  month  of 
the  "  dry  season,"  though  that  is  reckoned  to  begin 
with  December.  These  are  the  two  best  months  for 
beginners  from  the  North.  At  this  season  the  heavy 
rains  of  the  summer  and  early  fall  sensibly  diminish 
in  force,  and  before  February  sets  in  they  cease 
almost  entirely,  leaving  an  interval  of  from  seven  to 
nine  weeks  of  bright  weather,  scarcely  interrupted 


52  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

by  a   passing  shower,  ^yllicll  the  settler  should  not 
fail  to  take  advantage  of. 

This  secure  period  of  calm  and  cloudless  sky  has 
given  me  time  to  form  my  plans,  to  select  and  clear 
my  planting-ground,  and  to  strengthen  my  fences 
against  my  neighbor's  cattle  ;  I  have  none  of  my  own 
as  yet,  to  fence  in  or  out. 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.  53 


CHAPTER  m. 


PEER  UA  RY . 


A  call  from  Don  Julio  Perez. — Transplanting  vegetables. — Juan's 
curiosity. — Cutting  logwood. — My  success  in  clearing. — Another 
visit  from  Don  Julio. — Agreeable  result. — Washington's  birth- 
day.— How  I  celebrate  it. — Anita's  breakfast  for  Don  Julio  and 
myself. — My  Buena  Vista. — Mysterious  conference  between 
Juan  and  Anita. — Preparations  for  an  orange  grove. — Juan's 
amazement. — Success  of  my  garden. 

We  were  blessed  with  a  rainy  week  in  the  early 
pai't  of  the  mouth,  and  ixnder  favor  of  this  unusual 
refreshment  of  the  earth,  ui  the  heart  of  the  dry 
season,  I  made  a  kind  of  winter  garden  at  the  low, 
moist  margin  of  the  spring.  In  the  rainy  season 
this  bit  of  low  ground,  at  the  outlet  of  this  precious, 
unfailing  fountain,  might  be  altogether  too  wet  for 
satisfactory  cultivation ;  but  in  the  period  of  drought 
it  offers  the  only  spot  on  my  little  homestead  on 
which  I  can  securely  rely  for  a  fresh  succession  of  the 


54  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

more  delicate  vegetables  throiigh  most  of  January, 
February,  and  March. 

The  morning  after  the  first  flill  of  rain  I  was  iip 
with  the  dawn,  and  at  work  in  my  projected  "  winter 
garden,"  breaking  up  the  ground  and  laying  off  the 
plats  in  regular  order  for  the  various  plantings. 

"You  are  at  work  early,  sir,"  said  a  voice  at  my 
elbow,  as  I  was  wielding  the  pick-axe  with  all  the 
vigor  of  the  fresh  morning.  I  looked  xip  in  surprise, 
and  met  tlie  kmdly  smile  and  extended  hand  of  Don 
Julio  Perez. 

"I  rode  over  to  see  your  improvements,  vecino 
mio,''^  said  Don  Julio,  "  and  more  particularly  to 
warn  you  that  it  is  not  safe  for  an  imacclimated  per- 
son, like  yourself,  to  continue  your  labors  througli 
the  heat  of  the  day." 

"Thank  you,  Don  Julio,  for  your  consideration, 
but  that  is  precisely  what  I  am  careful  not  to  do,"  I 
answered.  "  I  abstain  from  all  severe  out-door  labor 
after  ten — or,  at  the  latest,  eleven — in  the  morning, 
and  do  not  resume  it  again  until  two  or  three  in  the 
afternoon." 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  55 

"  And  yet,  the  five  weeks  you  have  been  here  have 
left  their  mark,"  said  Dou  Julio,  politely,  as  he  led 
his  horse  a  few  steps  up  the  spring  slope,  and  swept 
the  clearing,  of  which  it  was  the  centre,  with  a  look 
of  mingled  curiosity  and  satisfaction.  "  This  large 
clearing  speaks  strongly  of  an  American  axe  in 
American  hands." 

"  I  have  a  faithful  help  in  Juan  Garcia,"  I  observ- 
ed, "  and  in  the  hours  I  dedicate  to  labor  I  feel  able 
to  work  to  some  purpose." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  us  all,  natives  as 
well  as  foreigners,  not  to  exhaust  our  energies  at 
mid-day,"  resumed  Don  Julio,  after  a  moment  of 
thoughtful  silence. 

"Z  find  it  well,  at  least,  I  assure  you,  and  I 
would  extend  the  rule  iu  some  degree  to  Juan, 
but  he  cannot  be  kept  to  the  early  morning  hours 
of  labor  which  I  prescribe  to  myself" 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Don  Julio  ;  "  none  of  these 
people  will  give  you  a  fair  day's  work,  except  in 
their  own  old  way.  But  the  cool  morning  is  running 
away,  and  I  am  detaining  you :  Adios." 


56  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

Springing  on  his  horse,  Don  Julio  gallope^l  off 
almost  as  abruptly  as  he  came,  but  not  without 
pressing  uj^on  me  the  offer  of  a  yoke  or  two  of  oxen 
to  plough  up  my  corn-land  in  its  season. 

To  return  to  my  February  rains,  and  their  results. 
The  seedhng  bed  of  January,  nursed  with  many  co- 
pious waterings,  became  so  thick  set  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  transplant  freely  to  give  room  for  growth. 
Juan  went  on  alone  with  the  Maya  hedge,  setting 
that  in  its  place  ^vith  his  native  bush-hook,  while  I 
set  out  abundance  of  tomatoes,  egg-plant,  ocra,  and 
other  vegetables  in  my  winter  garden.  We  both 
made  the  most  of  our  plants  while  the  earth  was 
moist  with  recent  showers.  They  have  taken  very 
well,  and  Juan  brings  over  his  friends  every  now 
and  then  to  see  and  w^onder  at  the  extraordinary 
trouble  I  have  taken  "  to  have  things  grow  in  spite 
of  the  seco — dry  season." 

Nevertheless,  Juan  and  I  are  visibly  progressing 
with  our  clearing  and  fencing  arrangements,  and  our 
enlarged  lot  is  now,  at  the  last  of  the  month,  ready 
for  the  plough,  where  the  stumps  will  permit  it  to 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  57 

pass.  Buruing  the  brush  has  killed  them  off,  and 
will  prevent  "  sprouting,"  and  I  have  promised  Juan 
that  by  the  close  of  the  I'ainy  season — or  whenever 
the  care  of  the  crop  will  best  allow  it — we  will  rig 
out  a  stump-puller  with  our  ox-chain,  and  make  clean 
work  of  most  of  the  ground.  He  is  wild  with 
curiosity  to  see  the  process  of  drawing  out  roots, 
as  I  have  compared  it  to  extracting  teeth. 

February,  with  its  almost  unbroken  succession  of 
calm,  summer-like  days,  is  exactly  fitted  to  the  busi- 
ness of  clearing,  and  more  can  be  done  in  one  such 
week,  than  in  two  when  the  rains  set  in ;  besides, 
the  time  of  rains  should  be  employed  in  planting 
the  ground  duly  made  ready  in  advance,  when  little 
else  can  be  done. 

February  is  also  a  good  month  for  pruning  and 
grafting,  except  for  such  trees  as  are  then  in  the 
midst  of  their  fruit-bearing. 

In  the  morning,  after  devoting  an  hour  to  my 
vegetables  and  fruit-trees,  Juan  would  present  him- 
self for  work  and  his  breakfast — a  camp  breakfiist 

of  the  roughest,  but  perfectly  acceptable  to  a  healthy 
3* 


58  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

appetite.  Then  to  our  daily  war  on  the  woodlands — 
I  M'ith  my  keen,  smooth-helved  American  axe,  to  fell 
the  trees  during  my  appointed  hours  of  toil,  and 
Juan  to  trim  oif  the  branches  yith  his  long-bladed 
natiye  machete — always  taking  care  as  we  Avent  on 
to  pile  aside  the  fence-stakes,  and  heap  up  the  useless 
brush  for  burning,  as  we  had  been  doing  through 
January. 

There  was  a  beautiful  eminence — a  round  knoll, 
crowned  with  a  dense  grove  of  logwood,  sloping 
upward  from  the  farther  margin  of  the  spring — 
which  gave  us  no  little  toil  and  trouble.  It  was  a 
thoniy  tanglement  of  undergrowth  terrible  to  attack, 
but  we  persevered  with  axe,  machete^  and  brush- 
hook,  until  it  was  all  brought  to  the  ground,  and 
the  logwood  trimmed  for  market. 

One  bright  afternoon  Don  JuUo  dropped  down 
upon  us  in  his  sudden  way,  just  as  we  were  piling  up 
the  last  of  our  logwood,  and  inquu'ed  what  I  intend- 
ed doing  with  it.  I  knew  it  was  a  marketable  com- 
modity, and  that  Don  Julio  was  a  large  exporter  of 
mahogany  and  other  woods ;  so  I  replied,  half  in  jest, 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  59 

half  in  earnest,  that  I  proposed  to  sell  it  to  him  in 
part  payment  of  my  land. 

"  But  you  are  not  called  upon  to  pay  me  any  thing 
before  the  end  of  the  year,"  said  Don  Julio. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  would  gladly  dispose  of  this  log- 
wood as  it  lies  here,  and  cancel  so  much  of  my  in- 
debtedness as  it  will  cover.  I  leave  the  price  to 
yourself,  Don  Julio,  as  you  are  experienced  in  woods, 
if  you  choose  to  take  it." 

Don  Julio  dismounted  with  a  smile,  and  examined 
the  logwood — Campeche^  it  is  called  here — with  atten- 
tion. 

"  This  is  a  fine  lot,  and  convenient  to  the  landing, 
and  at  ten  dollars  a  ton  may  be  fairly  worth  one 
hundred  dollars,"  he  said,  as  he  remounted  his  horse. 
"  I  will  allow  you  that  sum  as  it  lies ;  or,  if  you 
prefer,  you  may  take  it  to  the  scales  at  Port  Palenque 
landing,  and  I  will  pay  you  by  its  weight  ten  dollars 
the  ton." 

"  I  accept  the  hundred  dollars,  Don  Julio.  The 
logwood  is  yours,  and,"  I  added  to  myself,  with  a 
bounding  heart,  "two-thirds  of  the  purchase  price 


60  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

of  this  fair  homestead  has  been  Avon  from  it  in  less 
than  two  mouths'  occupation." 

This  was  the  21st  of  February,  and  on  the  22d  I 
kept  holiday,  in  memory  of  the  birth  of  Wash- 
ington. 

It  was  a  day  of  twofold  interest, — dear  in  mem- 
ory of  the  Father  of  his  country,  and  dear  because 
it  saw  me  in  very  deed  the  owner  of  my  homestead. 
At  my  request  Anita  came  early,  to  prepare  a  camp 
breakfast,  for  Don  JuUo  had  promised  to  ride  over  in 
the  morning  with  the  papers  for  my  land,  and  take  a 
cup  of  coffee  with  me.  Of  course,  there  was  no  end 
of  bust] 3  and  anxiety  of  preparation  from  sunrise  to 
about  ten,  when  our  guest  presented  hifnself,  and  the 
table  was  served  with  fresh  lettuce,  rosy  radishes, 
crisp  cucumbers,  and  green  beans.  These  first-fruits 
of  my  industry  figured,  in  this  melange  of  all  meals, 
with  the  fresh  cassava,  nice  calabaza,  sweet  potatoes, 
and  other  vegetables  from  Juan's  patch  of  garden, 
besides  a  brace  of  broiled  pigeons  and  a  gourdshell 
of  boiled  eggs  as  central  ornaments.  Xot  the  least 
luxury,    in   my  estimation,  was  a  plate   of  peachy- 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  61 

pulped  caiinetes,  and  another  of  the  rosy,  sub-acid 
pomegranate,  mmgled  with  creamy  custard  ap|)les, 
all  from  my  own  trees.  The  oranges  were  from 
Juan's  cottage  door — I  have  none  as  yet — but  all  the 
other  fruits  were  from  the  grand  old  trees  around 
the  spring. 

It  was  an  odd,  but  abundant,  and  not  unsavory 
meal,  yet  there  was  not  an  article  upon  our  rustic 
table  that  came  from  the  United  States,  except  the 
toasted  sea-biscuit  and  the  Orange  County  butter 
that  dressed  it. 

The  corn  and  the  cassava  bread  were  the  product 
of  Juan's  labor,  but  the  coifee  and  sugar  came  froai 
Don  Julio's  plantation.  His  kind  and  neighborly 
old  mayoral — land  steward — had  proposed  an  ex- 
change of  those  articles  for  some  of  my  salted  stores, 
and  both  of  lis  have  fomid  the  arrangement  satis- 
factory. 

This  trifling  matter  is  only  worthy  of  note  because 
other  new  settlers  may  find  it  convenient  to  be  in- 
structed by  it.  My  first  entertainment  under  the 
shelter  of  my  own  tent  was,  therefore,  in  nowisa  an 


G2  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

American  aftliir.  It  was  Dominican — thoroiighly  and 
amusingly  Dominican — in  all  its  details.  The  ruling 
idea  ^vas  quantity.  Ever}^  available  nook  and  shelf 
was  put  in  requisition  to  hold  some  portion  of  Anita's 
elaborate  display;  but  the  coffee  was  good,  the  omelet 
respectable,  the  incadia  excellent,  and  the  pigeons  de- 
licious, so  that  ample  justice  was  done  to  the  extrar 
ordinary  efforts  of  Juan  and  his  wife. 

After  coffee,  we  took  our  oranges  and  our  cigars 
under  the  shade  of  the  superb  trees  overhanging 
the  spring  slope,  and  left  the  tent  and  their  shai'e 
of  the  breakfast  to  these  willing  servants,  for  a  quiet 
hour  of  enjoyment  in  their  way. 

Meanwhile,  Don  Julio  delivered  to  me  the  title- 
deeds  of  my  place,  duly  attested  in  legal  form. 
They  had  been  made  out  as  if  the  money  were  all 
paid,  and  he  almost  refused  to  take  the  note  I  had 
written  for  the  balance  due  him. 

Li  his  desire  to  seiwe  me,  he  suggested  the  supe- 
rior profits  to  be  gained  by  cutting  mahogany,  satin- 
wood,  Gampeche,  ship-timber,  etc.,  and  offered  me 
liberal  conditions  if  I  felt  disposed  to  procm'e  a  good 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  63 

force  of  axemen  and  teamsters  from  the  United 
States,  and  take  charge  of  a  vahiablc  tract  of  forest 
owned  by  him  near  the  Haytien  frontier.  I  decUned, 
partly  on  the  plea  of  my  insufficient  capital  and  ex- 
perience for  such  an  nndertaking ;  but  the  stronger 
reason,  as  I  frankly  informed  him,  was  my  uncon- 
trollable desire  to  obtain  a  settled  and  immediate 
home  for  me  and  mine. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right.  Yes,  I  have  no  doubt  of 
it,  my  friend,"  said  Don  Julio,  after  one  of  his 
.thoughtful  jjauses.  "Health,  tranquillity,  and  inde- 
pendence are  the  greatest  of  earthly  blessings,  and 
you  are  now  on  the  surest  road  to  them." 

Throwing  away  the  stump  of  his  cigar,  he  arose 
and  sauntered  through  my  cherished  and  thriving 
winter  garden,  complimenting  the  arrangement  of  the 
beds,  and  promising  to  send  me  plenty  of  ginger  and 
arrow-root  to  edge  the  borders,  and  also  bespeaking 
a  suf)ply  of  tomatoes  and  ocra  for  his  own  table. 

These  plants  are  setting  in  fruit  and  blossom,  and 
there  will  be  an  over  supply  for  us  all,  if  they  yield 
as  well  as  they  promise. 


64  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

Returning  from  this  circuit,  Don  Julio  called  for 
his  horse,  but,  ^'ith  the  bridle  over  his  arm,  he  lin- 
gered and  chatted  over  farming  matters  as  he  slowly 
ascended,  the  knoll  where  he  had  found  us  piling 
logwood  the  previous  day.  I  was  walking  beside  him 
when  he  stopped  abruptly,  and  exclaimed  with  en- 
thusiasm : 

"  What  a  lovely  prospect !  How  is  it  that  I  never 
saw  it  before  ?" 

I  glanced  round  in  surprise.  Then,  for  the  first 
time,  from  the  summit  of  the  knoll  lately  occu^^ied  by 
the  Gampeche  grove,  I  caught  an  indistinct  but 
charming  view  of  the  blue  and  dancing  sea.  It  was 
seen  in  broken  glimpses  through  the  intervening 
trunks  of  forest-trees,  and  only  a  narrow  belt  of 
foliage,  easily  swept  away,  marred  the  wide  prospect. 
The  dense  chapparal  had  hitherto  completely  obscured 
the  beautiful  reach  of  lower  land  and  the  swelling 
waves  beyond  it;  but  the  last  labors  of  Juan  the  day 
before  had  rent  away  the  veil.  Until  that  moment  I 
had  no  idea  that  this  moderate  elevation  commanded 
such  an  extensive  view.     I  observed  to  Don  Julio, 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  65 

after  we  had  gazed  awhile  in  silence  on  its  unexpect- 
ed beauties — 

"  But  it  surprises  me  that  you,  the  owner  of  this 
estate,  should  not  have  known  it  before." 

"I  w^as  aware,"  he  replied,  "that  in  old  times 
there  was  a  residence  here  called  Buena  Vista — Fine 
View — yet  it  never  occurred  to  me  to  ask  why.  But 
hark !  is  not  that  the  murmur  of  the  surf?" 

"Yes,  undoubtedly  it  is,"  I  said,  after  listening 
a  moment,  "  and  distinct  enough,  too.  It  is  singular 
that  in  all  the  last  week,  w^hile  Juan  and  I  were 
cutting  this  timber,  neither  of  us  noticed  the  sound 
of  the  surf" 

"  Not  at  all.  The  wind  did  not  happen  to  set  this 
way,  and  the  rustle  of  the  falling  trees  would  deaden 
the  sound." 

"Then  these  magnificent  old  fruit-trees,  which  I 
am  taking  such  a  delight  in  pruning,  were  perhaps 
planted  for  the  adornment  of  Buena  Vista?"  I 
suggested. 

"  Undoubtedly,"  replied  Don  Julio.  "  And  now  I 
recollect  that  some  of  the  old  men  about  here  have 


66  Life    in     St.    Domingo, 

told,  me  that  in  the  days  of  its  splendor  this  estate 
had  a  straight  avenixe,  with  a  double  line  of  orange- 
tvees  on  each  side  of  it,  from  the  mansion  to  Port 
Palenque.  The  orange-trees  were  choked  to  death 
long  ago,  but  my  people  may  find  the  line  of  the  old 
road  when  they  take  this  logwood  down  to  the  land- 
ing." 

"  I  too  will  look  out  for  it,  Don  Julio,  and  be  as- 
sured I  shall  exert  myself  to  do  all  that  Juan's  labor 
and  mine  can  help  towards  opening  a  direct  road  to 
the  landing.  The  winding  mule-path  we  are  using 
now  is  a  rough  affair." 

"  Do  so,  vecino  mio,^''  replied  Don  Julio,  with  a  fare- 
well grasp  of  the  hand,  "  and  we  will  also  talk  about 
what  can  be  done  in  the  way  of  extending  your 
boundaries  in  that  direction  if  you  require  more 
land." 

After  his  departure  I  threw  myself  on  the  ground 
under  the  shade  of  the  interlacing  branches  of  the 
noble  fruit-trees — which  I  now  felt  were  so  really 
ray  own — and  thought  over  the  cheering  success  of 
my  single-handed  search  for  a  home. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  07 

I  was  still  buried  in  these  pleasant  reveries  when 
Juan  broke  into  them  by  bringing  me  a  caimete 
branch,  loaded  with  that  most  delicious  fruit.  He 
asked  me  if  I  was  sick,  that  I  remained  so  long  sitting 
motionless  under  a  tree,  neither  eating,  sleeping,  nor 
smoking.  I  answered  by  pointing  to  the  snatches 
of  blue  sea  visible  through  the  trees.  He  threw  a 
careless  glance  in  that  direction  and  asked  me  if  I 
thought  the  sea  as  beautiful  as  the  savanna. 

"  Sea  and  savanna  are  equally  beautiful,  Juan, 
each  in  its  way ;  but  this  grand  reach  of  blue  waves 
and  the  fresh  and  bracing  air  which  they  will  send 
to  us  every  hour  of  our  lives  are  alone  worth  all  I 
have  paid  for  this  estancia.  I  hope  to  build  my 
own  dwelling  on  this  old  site  of  Buena  Vista,  if  it 
shall  please  our  Heavenly  Father  to  smile  on  my 
efforts  in  Santo  Domingo." 

Juan  was  astonished  at  the  value  I  set  on  a  sea 
view,  and  assured  me  that  he  had  at  his  raneho 
almost  as  wide  a  prospect,  but  that  a  few  bushes, 
which  he  had  never  thought  of  taking  the  trouble 
to  cut  away,  had  grown  up  and  hid  it  from  sight. 


68  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

He  could  partly  appreciate  the  care  I  was  bestowing 
oil  the  fruit-trees  ;  he  liked  fruit  himself,  if  it  was 
to  be  had  without  much  trouble  ;  and  the  shade  was 
rather  agreeable  in  the  lazy  noon-tide ;  but  the  su- 
jDerfluity  of  a  graceful  arrangement  or  the  charms 
of  an  extensive  prospect  were  below,  or  beyond,  his 
consideration. 

"When  we  returned  to  the  tent  he  shared  his  sur- 
prise with  his  wife,  and  he  made  the  computation  in 
his  own  fashion  when  he  stated  to  her  how  highly 
the  SeSor  valued  his  sea  prospect.  He  had  assist- 
ed in  cutting  down  the  logwood  that  covered  the 
old  site,  and  was  present  when  I  sold  it  to  Don  Julio, 
and  he  spoke,  therefore,  as  one  having  oflBcial  infor- 
mation. 

"  Anita,  my  lily,  would  you  believe  it,"  he  said 
to  her  confidentially,  while  I  v.-as  out  of  sight,  but 
not  out  of  hearing,  mixing  a  glass  of  fresh  lemonade 
within  the  curtains  of  my  tent,  "  would  you  be- 
lieve it,  SeSor  Yecino  says,  very  positively,  that 
the  sight  of  the  sea,  when  it  is  right  blue,  is  worth 
ten  tons  of  GampecheP 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  69 

"Is  it  possible!"  exclaimed  Anita,  in  a  tone  of 
profound  astonishment,  which  melted  gently  into  an 
accent  of  commiseration,  as  she  added,  "  But  the 
poor  innocent  lamb  of  a  stranger  don't  know  the 
value  of  CampecheP 

Nevertheless,  I  hold  stubbornly  to  my  own  esti- 
mate of  the  comparative  value  of  my  sea  views, 
though  it  had  not  occurred  to  me  to  weigh  it  against 
logwood,  before  Juan  hit  on  the  happy  idea. 

Had  I  required  additional  stimulus  to  steady,  un- 
flaffffins:  exertion,  I  nii2:ht  have  found  it  in  the  en- 
couraging  circumstances  of  my  logwood  cutting  ;  but 
I  did  not  need  it.  To  work  with  an  aim  is  to  work 
with  interest,  and  to  work  with  interest  is  so  healthful 
for  mind  and  body,  that  there  is  no  chance  for  miser- 
able dyspepsia  or  for  indolent  repinings.  My  labors 
are  acceptable,  and  my  intervals  of  rest  delightful. 

I  find  it  the  most  agreeable  of  relaxations  to  plan 
out  my  improvements,  and  to  fit  and  adjust  one  oc- 
cupation with  another,  so  as  to  bring  Avithin  the 
compass  of  each  successive  week  the  proper  duties 
of  its  time  and  season,     I  want  to  feel  and  see  that 


70  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

the  labors  of  every  Diontli  have  been,  to  the  best  ol" 
my  ability,  such  as  most  properly  belong  to  that 
particular  portion  of  the  year. 

My  clearing  and  fencing  are  over  for  the  present. 
My  Home  Field  is  in  order  for  the  plough,  when- 
ever the  spring  rains  set  in.  When  that  time  comes 
I  shall  be  able  to  exchange  my  own  labor,  with  my 
heavy  American  plough,  for  the  use  of  oxen.  Don 
Julio  offers  me,  gratis,  the  use  of  two  yoke  of  strong, 
though  rather  wild  oxen,  and  a  driver  with  them, 
in  order  to  have  them  all  instructed  iu  that  yet 
unknown  mystery  to  Dominican  agriculturists,  the 
art  of  ploughing. 

The  season  has  not  yet  arrived  for  that ;  but  I 
have  plenty  of  occupation  without  it  for  the  next  six 
weeks  in  the  care  of  my  fruit-trees,  and,  perhaps^ 
in  putting  up  a  poultry-yard. 

I  must  think  of  v^liat  trees  I  requu-e,  of  lohere  I 
am  to  obtain  them,  when  they  should  be  planted, 
and,  neither  last  nor  least,  liow  I  am  to  place  them 
to  the  best  advantage,  both  with  reference  to  their 
respective  demands  on  soil,  and  their  symmetrical 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  71 

relations  with  the  situation  of  a  future  dwelling  on 
my  chosen  site  of  Buena  Vista. 

There  are  many  bearing  fruit-trees  on  my  home- 
stead, eight  or  nine  varieties  at  least ;  but  there  is  a 
serious  lack  of  sweet  orange-trees.  There  are  limes 
and  sour  oranges,  plenty  for  my  use,  and  always  in 
bearing,  it  would  seem ;  but  no  trees  bearing  the 
large,  juicy  sweet  oranges,  for  which  Santo  Domingo 
has  an  old  and  well-deserved  renown. 

I  want  an  orange  grove  for  tlie  enjoyment  of  its 
wholesome,  delicious  fruit,  and  for  the  preparation 
of  that  most  delicate  of  tonics,  "orange  wine."  I 
have  tasted  it  at  Don  Julio's  hospitable  board,  and 
am  impatient  to  see  it  at  my  own. 

I  have  a  fair  beginning  at  hand  in  a  wild,  chance- 
sown  nursery  of  year  old  seedlings,  which  both  Juan 
and  Don  Julio  assure  me  will  bear  in  three  years, 
if  left  where  they  stand.  But  I  have  no  idea  ot 
letting  them  stand,  for  they  have  nearly  every  one 
planted  themselves  in  the  wrong  place.  I  must 
teach  them  how  to  shoot  and  where  to  grow,  for  1 
have  my  own  plan  as  to  what  I  shall  do  with  them. 


72  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

Early  in  January  I  noticed  these  clusters  of  young 
oranges  struggling  for  life  under  a  suffocating  load 
of  Avild  vines,  along  the  line  of  the  old  hedge.  I 
carefully  relieved  them  at  the  time  from  their  en- 
croaching enemies,  and  partially  trimmevd  off  the 
crooked  and  superfluous  shoots.  Juan  was  eager  to 
bring  his  machete  to  my  aid,  but  his  slashing  ac- 
tivity was  much  too  energetic  for  the  health  of  my 
tender  yearlings.  I  told  him  that  I  must  reserve 
them  for  my  own  mornings'  recreation  until  the  rains 
came  on,  when  I  would  be  glad  to  have  him  help  me 
to  transplant  such  as  I  should  select  along  the  spring 
walk. 

Juan  heard  the  plan  of  transplanting  with  amaze- 
ment. "  Transplant  these  things,  Seiior !"  he  ex- 
claimed ;  "  why,  these  are  nothing  but  sour  oranges. 
Ah,  yes,  here  are  two — three — four  sweet  ones,  but 
they  are  very  well  here.  All  the  rest  will  give  you 
fruit  as  sour  as  limes,  only  fit  to  make  oi-angeade  for 
sick  people.  They  may  live  or  die  anywhere,  as  God 
pleases." 

"  But,  Juan,  I   must  place  them  where  they  will 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  73 

h.ive  room  to  grow,  and  in  time  make  a  pleasant 
shade,  to  protect  us  from  the  sun  and  rain  as  we  go 
to  the  spring  and  back.  Besides  that,  I  intend  in 
due  time  that  every  one  of  these  trees  shall  bear 
plenty  of  the  finest  sweet  oranges,  like  those  in  your 
garden." 

"  How  is  it  possible,  SeSor,  to  turn  ugly  sour 
oranges  into  large,  beautiful  sweet  ones,  like  those 
Anita  brings  you  ?"  queried  Juan,  somewhat  doubt- 
fully. 

"  Perfectly  possible,  Juan.  I  will  engage  to  change 
the  nature  of  their  bearing  so  as  to  make  every 
one  of  these  wild,  sour  orange-trees  yield  none  but 
the  sweetest  fruit— exactly  like  your  own,  in  fact — 
provided  you  will  give  me  some  cuttings  from  the 
tree  before  your  door." 

"  Oh,  SeSor,  you  know  that  the  whole  tree,  body 
and  branches,  is  at  your  service.  But  when  will  you 
perform  the  miracle  ?" 

"  About  the  first  of  March  we  will  try  to  begin  it, 

but  in  the  mean  time  we  have  our  February  pruning 

to  finish.     Every  thing  in  its  season,  Juan." 
4 


Life     in     St.    D 


o  M  I  N  G  o . 


The  last  of  oxir  February  work  was  the  opening  of 
a  small  trench  m  the  winter  garden  to  let  in  water 
from  the  spring.  The  dry  weather  tells  more  severe- 
ly than  I  expected  on  my  vegetables  and  garden  rel- 
ishes. The  tomatoes  hold  up  their  heads,  and  are 
well  set  with  young  fruit  as  large  as  marbles,  and  the 
beans  yield  me  a  green  mess  every  day  for  my  din- 
ner, but  most  of  the  other  things  seem  to  bear  feebly. 
They  are  growing  fairly  in  stem  and  leaf,  but  the 
fruit  does  not  satisfy  my  expectations. 

I  have  delved  out  with  the  pickaxe  and  hoe  a 
foot-wide  trench,  which,  opening  its  trunk  at  the 
margin  of  the  spring,  ramifies  in  crossing  and  ex-. 
panding  branches  so  as  to  conduct  threads  of  water 
through  most  of  the  beds.  It  has  cost  me  several  days 
hard  toil,  with  four  half  days  of  hired  work  from 
Juan,  but  it  has  secured  the  well-being  of  my  plants, 
and  I  have  a  strong  faith  that  the  abundant  and 
varied  produce  of  this  bit  of  ground  will  well  repay 
the  trouble. 

I  have  worked  and  watched  their  progress  with 
too  much  interest,  not  to  be  sensible  of  the  fresh 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  75 

and  improved  appearance  of  ray  plants  since  I  sent 
the  trickling  overplus  of  the  spring  meandering 
among  them,  and,  for  every  hour  I  have  given  them, 
they  will  return  me  days  and  weeks  of  increased 
comfort  and  health.  This  much  at  least  I  have 
learned,  and  earned,  in  the  first  two  months  of 
working  experience  in  my  new  country. 


76  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Fruits  and  flowers. — Charms  of  tropical  life. — A  visit  fs-om  Juan's 
cousins. — What  they  wanted. — A  strange  "  baptism." — Prepara- 
tions for  grafting — Startled  by  the  appearance  of  a  crowd  around 
my  tent. — The  "  convita." — My  "  neighbors  and  well-wishers." — 
Grafting  performed  in  presence  of  a  large  company. — Pro- 
nounced a  "miracle." — The  great  feast. — My  address. — How 
responded  to. — Jose  Ravela. — We  resolve  to  make  a  road  to 
Palenque. — Don  Julio's  surprise. — He  promises  assistance. — The 
road  finished. — Ignorance,  not  industry,  debasing. 

A  PERPETUAL  succession  of  fruits  and  flowers  is  one 
of  the  peculiar  charms  of  tropical  life,  and  March, 
like  February,  belongs  emjihatically  to  fruit  culture. 
The  pruning-knife  and  saw  may  be  used  moderately 
in  January  and  freely  in  February,  but  March  is  the 
juonth  for  the  final  trimming  and  most  reliable  graft- 
ing of  all  kinds  of  fruit-trees,  except  those  absolutely 
in  the  heart  of  their  bearing  season. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  77 

Juan  had  talked  all  through  February  of  the  graft- 
ing exploits  we  were  to  perform  in  March.  Some  of 
the  neighbors  had  a  dim  idea  of  the  process,  but  none 
had  ever  witnessed  it,  and  there  was  quite  a  stir  of 
expectation  around  and  about  me,  though  I  was 
altogether  unconscious  of  it  until  the  day  of  action 
arrived. 

On  the  last  evening  of  February,  I  was  bending  over 
the  closing  notes  of  the  month's  summary,  when  the 
hum  of  voices  outside  of  the  tent  aroused  my  attention. 
It  was  Juan,  attended  by  a  brace  of  cousins,  who  had 
come  to  ask  formal  permission  to  be  present  at  "  the 
haptisiyi  of  my  young  orange-trees."  For  a  moment, 
I  was  at  a  loss  for  the  meaning  of  this  odd  phrase  ; 
but  Juan  explained  it  by  reference  to  the  sour  orange- 
trees  which  I  was  to  convert  into  bearers  of  sweet 
oranges  of  the  first  class,  by  some  peculiar  process 
-which  his  friends  were  anxious  to  behold. 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  I.  "  Juan  and  his  friends  are 
heartily  welcome  to  all  I  can  show  them.  We  will 
name  next  Monday  morning  for  our  grafting  experi- 
ment.    But  I  must  first  prepare  my  grafting  salve, 


78  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

and,  to  make  it  properly,  I  must  beg  Aiiita  to  favor 
me  mth  a  lump  of  Ler  uice  beesAvax." 

"  En  hora  huena^''  exclaimed  Juau,  joyously.  "lu 
a  good  hour.  My  lily  of  a  wife" — Juan  had  the 
habit  of  calling  his  ebony  spouse  his  "  rose"  and  his 
"  Hly"  when  his  spirits  were  elated — "  my  Anita  said 
only  to-day  that  she  ought  to  bring  you  some  new 
honey,  and  when  the  smoke  is  going,  and  my  hands 
are  among  the  hives,  I  will  see  that  you  have  plenty 
of  wax.     Never  fear  for  that,  Senor." 

"  A  piece  the  size  of  a  hen's  ^^'g  will  be  sufficient 
for  all  the  trees  I  propose  to  graft.  Don't  trouble 
yourself  or  Auita  to  j^rovide  more  than  that." 

"  But  does  not  the  Seiior  want  something  from  the 
apothecary  at  Bani  for  this  famous  salve?"  inquired 
one  of  the  cousins,  in  an  anxious  tone.  "  If  he  does, 
I  will  walk  over  there  to-night,  and  bring  it  to  him 
before  noon  to-morrow." 

"  No,  thank  you.  Except  the  wax,  I  have  all  I  re- 
quire in  that  tin  cup  on  the  shelf.  I  take  a  bit  of 
candle  and  as  much  rosin,  or,  as  I  have  no  rosin,  as 
much  tar  as  the  tallow  and  wax  together,  and  I  have 


Life     in     St,    Domingo.  79 

all  I  want.  These  three  ingredients  well  mixed  and 
melted,  and  spread  ou  strips  of  old  rags  of  any  kind, 
is  the  whole  story  of  this  grafting  salve.  I  hope  you 
wUl  all  remember  and  practise  it." 

"  Wax  and  tar  and  tallow,''''  said  Juan's  other 
cousin,  in  a  tone  of  surprise  nearly  allied  to  unbelief, 
"  nothing  but  wax,  tar,  and  tallow  to  baptize  a  sour 
orange  into  a  sweet  one  !  Why,  Seiior,  that  stuff  is 
what  we  use  to  cure  an  ox  or  a  burro  when  he  gets 
a  bad  cut." 

"  Nothing  else  is  needed,  I  assure  you.  Fruit- 
trees  are  as  easily  treated  as  oxen  and  donkeys. 
Only  remember  my  directions,  and  practise  carefully 
the  proper  method  of  uniting  the  young  slips  of 
sweet  orange  with  the  stems  of  the  roughest  and 
wildest  nature,  and  you  may  have  as  many  fruit- 
trees  of  the  best  quality  as  you  wish,  or  have  ground 
to  plant  in." 

With  this  recommendation,  which  they  promised 
not  to  forget,  my  visitors  departed  in  high  good 
humor,  and  left  me  to  my  solitary  but  never  lonely 
repose.     I  am  too  full  of  occupation  for  lonesomeness 


80  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

— which  is  the  oppressing  genius  of  men  without  an 
riim. 

On  the  appointed  day,  not  only  Juan  and  Jiis  wife 
with  his  cousins  and  their  wives,  but  at  least  a 
round  dozen  of  their  friends,  male  and  female,  were 
on  the  ground.  After  an  early  cup  of  coffee,  I  had 
gone  over  to  Juan's  cottage  to  cut  scions  from  the 
superior  fruit-tree  at  his  door.  When  I  returned  I 
was  a  good  deal  startled  at  seeing  a  crowd  gathered 
around  my  tent.  I  felt  reassured,  however,  when 
Juan's  cousin  Anselmo  detached  himself  from  the 
group,  and  informed  me  that  these  were  all  my 
"  neighbors  and  well-wishers,  who  had  come  to  see — 
with  my  j^ermission,  and  if  I  found  nothing  improper 
in  their  presence — how  I  j^erformed  the  miracle  of 
changing  the  nature  of  a  tree  from  bad  to  good." 

Anselmo  had  the  idea  rooted  in  his  mind  that 
there  was  some  occult,  though  benign,  charm  in  the 
proposed  operation.  In  his  simple  fancy,  it  had  a 
kind  of  assimilation  to  the  sacred  rite  which  hallows 
the  infant  brow,  and  brings  it  within  the  fold  of 
Christianity. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  81 

There  was  not  the  remotest  tinge  of  irreverence  in 
their  unsophisticated  hearts,  and  I  felt  that  the  short- 
est way  of  explaining  the  simple  and  material  nature 
of  the  change  to  be  wrought  in  the  fruits  yet  to  be 
borne  by  these  hardy  stocks,  would  be  to  show  the 
exact  character  of  the  operation. 

With  a  few  brief  words  of  welcome,  I  mvited  them 
to  the  scene  of  business.  They  thanked  me  with  im- 
pressive solemnity,  and  moved  in  mass  to  the  point 
indicated,  where  they  took  their  assigned  places  with 
the  grave  decorum  of  a  Committee  of  Observation, 
duly  authorized  to  carefully  watch  and  exactly 
report  every  step  of  the  important  process. 

I  could  hardly  repress  a  smile  as  Juan  stepped 
about,  his  countenance  charged  with  the  deepest  ex- 
pression of  responsibility,  ranging  his  men  in  a  stand- 
ing semicircle  on  one  side,  and  seating  the  women 
under  Anita's  captainship  on  the  grass,  opposite 
their  liege  lords,  but  a  little  farther  removed  from 
the  centre  of  operations. 

I  asked  two  of  them  to  come  forward  and  notice 

the  young  trees  before  I  beheaded  them ;  that  they 
4* 


82  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

might  see  for  themselves  tliat  they  were  then  but 
saplmgs  of  the  common  sour  orange,  although  they 
were  never  to  be  permitted  to  bear  other  than 
large,  sweet  fruit,  exactly  hke  that  of  their  neigh- 
bor Juan's,  which,  be  it  said,  is  the  admiration  of  all 
that  circle. 

"  There  are  three  lunes  here  besides  the  seventeen 
oranges,"  observed  Juan  sedately,  not  for  my  benefit 
— for  we  had  counted  them  half  a  dozen  times  over — 
but  for  a  little  stage  effect  on  his  own  account. 

"  I  think  w^e  wiU  make  sweet  oranges  of  the  limes 
also,  while  we  are  about  it,  Juan."  A  suppressed 
murmur  of  amazed  delight  was  the  only  reply,  as  I 
advanced  to  open  the  j^lay. 

The  salve  and  bandages  were  ready,  as  well  as 
the  scions,  which,  as  I  have  already  noted,  Juan  and 
I  had  cut  early  in  the  morning.  As  I  successively 
headed  down  and  cleft  the  stem  of  each  young  tree, 
Juan,  previously  mstructed  in  his  part,  with  two 
smooth  strokes  of  his  knife,  cut  the  scion  butt  into  a 
long,  true  wedge,  and  handed  it  to  me  to  insert  in 
the  stock.     The  instant  my  knife  parted  the  cleft, 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  83 

Anita,  and  an  aide-de-camp  cousin,  honored  for  the 
day  with  the  charge  of  the  twine,  delivered  the 
bandage,  to  be  wound  well  and  firmly  over  the  union 
of  scion  and  stock,  and  assisted  in  tyuig  it  all  in 
place.  In  this  order  we  Avent  from  tree  to  tree,  till 
every  one  had  received  the  crowning  graft,  and  then 
for  the  first  moment  did  the  anxious  company  un- 
bend from  its  rigid  attitude  of  attention,  and  break 
forth  into  the  warmest  expressions  of  applause. 

More  numerous  and  distinguished  spectators  may 
have  cheered  the  experimental  labors  of  a  Franklin, 
while  seducing  the  lightning  from  its  wild  path  in 
the  heavens,  or  a  Jenner,  while  spreading  the  mild 
glories  of  vaccination,  but  neither  of  them  ever  had 
an  audience  more  trustful  and  appreciative,  than  the 
breathless  circle  whose  eyes  followed  with  reveren- 
tial faith  every  motion  of  the  two  jack-knives  and  of 
the  ancient  tin  cup,  while  employed  in  doing  the 
honors  of  that  grafting  day. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  nearly  every  man  then  pres- 
ent will  try  his  hand  at  grafting  fruit-trees  in  some 
fashion,  and  without  much  regard  to  time  and  season, 


84  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

but  I  shall  feel  well  satisfied  if  any  one  of  them  really 
succeeds. 

I  was  careful  to  explain  to  them  that  the  most 
suitable  time  is  towards  the  close  of  the  dry  season, 
when  the  sap  is  concentrated,  and  disposed  to  rush 
into  vigorous  circulation  with  the  early  rains ;  but  few 
of  that  class  will  remember  it.  Yet  it  will  be  well 
for  new-comers  in  this  sunny  and  abounding  land  to 
give  some  heed  to  these  lessons. 

Trees  may  be  safely  relieved  of  that  luxuriant  sm*- 
plusage  of  branches,  so  noticeable  in  most  tropical 
countries,  at  almost  any  season  of  the  year ;  but  the 
time  for  regular  and  complete  pruning  is  between 
December  and  May,  when  the  circulation  is  languid, 
and  nature  declines  exhausting  her  powers  in  impetu- 
ous efforts  to  sprout  new  shoots  where  the  old  ones 
are  lopped. 

Men  of  practical  experience  have  assured  me  that  a 
judicious  trimming  in  January  or  February  gave  an 
advantage  equal  to  a  year's  growth  in  oranges,  mango, 
mamey,  and  other  yoimg  fruit-trees, — most  of  them 
being  larger,  more  beautiful,  and  bearing  better  at 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  85 

three  years,  than  others  in  the  same  grounds,  which 
were  left  to  themselves,  at  four,  and  even  five  years 
from  the  seed. 

There  is  generally  in  the  Antilles  a  period  of 
"forty  dry  days,"  some  time  between  the  first  of 
February  and  the  last  of  March,  and  this  is  the  chosen 
period  for  pruning  and  grafting. 

My  grafting  for  the  current  year  was  begun,  and 
in  all  probability  was  finished,  on  the  memorable  first 
Monday  of  March,  which  I  am  now  chronicling  at 
this  egotistical  length.  In  truth,  my  kind  neigh- 
bors made  it  such  a  pleasant  day  that  I  love  to  dwell 
on  it. 

It  was  near  eleven  when  the  last  crowning  scion 
received  the  final  knot  on  its  bandage,  and  I  was  not 
sorry  to  be  done  with  it,  and  turn  to  the  cool  shade 
of  my  embowered  tent  for  an  hour's  repose. 

As  I  drew  back  the  curtain  to  enter,  I  discovered 
Anita  and  her  little  daughter  Teresa  buzzing  about 
like  two  distracted  bees,  in  tlie  vain  endeavor  to  dis- 
pose in  neat  order  a  dozen  independent  heaps  of  fruits 
and  vegetables,  scattered  on  the  floor,  on  the  table. 


86  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

on  tlio  boxes  that  do  duty  for  sofas  and  chairs,  on 
every  thing,  in  brief,  and  in  every  corner  that  would 
hold  them. 

"  What  in  the  name  of  wonder  is  all  this,  Anita?" 

"  Oh,  nothmg,  Senor.  The  '  convita '  (the  party  of 
invited  guests)  knew  the  Seiior  was  a  stranger  in  our 
country,  and  each  of  them  brought  a  yam,  or  some 
cassava,  or  a  handful  of  potatoes,  or  any  nadita  (little 
nothing)  from  their  own  grounds,  so  as  not  to  give 
the  Senor  the  least  trouble  about  their  breakfast." 

"  Then  we  are  to  give  all  these  people  a  regular 
breakfast  ?"  I  demanded  in  consternation,  as  my  scant 
store  of  camp  cups  and  plates,  not  to  mention  where- 
with to  fill  them,  flashed  across  my  mind. 

"  Don't  be  concerned,  Senor,"  said  Anita,  with  the 
triumphant  composure  of  an  able  general,  serenely 
conscious  that  his  weU-planned  arrangements  have 
secured  victory  to  his  banners.  "  Juan  and  I  have 
prepared  every  thing." 

"  Is  this  splendid  breakfast  to  be  laid  out  here, 
Anita?"  I  inquired,  in  helpless  despaii',  glancing 
romid  at  the  narrow  limits  of  the  tent. 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  87 

"  God  forbid,  Seiior,"  said  the  woman,  liastily. 
"  We  know  better  than  to  take  such  a  liberty  with 
the  Sefior's  private  apartment." 

'  Where  then  is  the  affair  to  come  off?"  I  asked, 
greatly  relieved  by  this  declaration. 

"  I  will  show  the  Seiior,  if  he  will  please  to  walk 
this  way,"  she  answered,  radiant  with  the  feminine 
delight  of  having  managed  a  success. 

I  followed  her  docilely  to  the  door  of  the  old  cabin. 
This  had  been  cleared  and  repaired,  to  serve  as  a 
kitchen  and  storeroom;  and  what  with  barrels,  cart, 
plough,  etc.,  it  was  reasonably  full  of  a  poor  farmer's 
working  gear ;  but  while  I  was  busy  in  the  early 
morning,  getting  my  scions  and  attending  to  the  mi- 
uutioe  of  the  grafting  preparations,  two  of  Anita's 
confidential  friends  had  quietly  slipped  into  pos- 
session. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  process  by  which 
three  barrels  and  a  couple  of  planks  were  converted 
into  a  table ;  the  plough  and  "  cultivator"  made  the 
ornamental  supports  of  a  rustic  sofa ;  while  the  cart 
and  wheelbarrow  loomed   into  the  dignity  of  side- 


88  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

boards.  Enougli  to  say  that  those  who  planned  the 
feast  and  shared  iu  it,  found  it  to  their  perfect  satis- 
faction. 

The  company  were  not  present  when  I  went  to  sui'- 
vey  the  hall  of  entertainment;  Juan  had  consider- 
ately led  them  off  to  the  site  of  Buena  Yista,to  show 
them  how  thrifty  and  symmetrical  those  trees  were 
growing  which  we  had  trimmed  in  January.  When 
they  returned  it  was  about  noon,  and  the  breakfast 
was  ready  for  them. 

As  to  the  feast,  I  can  only  chronicle  that  an  enor- 
mous baked  fish  came  from  I  know  not  where,  and  a 
vast  platter  of  stewed  kid,  formidable  to  the  eye,  but 
of  fragrant  odor,  was  rushing  in  on  the  head  of  a 
tattered  youngster  from  other  unknown  regions. 
These,  Tvith  a  Spanish  "  scm  coche'''  composed  of  pig, 
pigeon,  and  plantain — excuse  the  alliteration — were 
tlie  staple  dishes.  An  unlimited  supply  of  corn-cakes 
and  warm  vegetables  was  kept  up  by  an  old  crone  in 
charge  of  three  or  four  fires  back  of  the  cabin,  and 
whatever  my  biscuit  barrel  and  a  smaller  one — whose 
contents  shall  be  nameless — could  do  in  the  way  of 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  89 

helping  out  this  wildwood  cheer,  Avas  frankly  con- 
tributed. 

My  own  simple  noon  meal  was  served  to  me  apart 
in  my  tent,  but  when  that  and  theirs  were  well  over, 
I  went  to  the  cabin  and  circulated  a  bundle  of  native 
cigars  among  my  native  guests.  Not  being  compel- 
led to  smoke  them  myself,  I  was  quite  regardless  of 
the  expense,  which,  for  the  benefit  of  future  immi- 
grants, who  should  always  have  some  on  hand  to 
offer  to  country  visitors,  I  will  mention,  is  some- 
thing less  than  a  cent  each. 

After  eating,  drinking,  lounging,  and  smoking  un- 
til about  two,  the  whole  party,  headed  by  Juan, 
filed  up  before  the  tent,  to  offer  their  aid  for  the  after- 
noon in  completing  my  fence.  That  was  a  piece  of 
business  at  which  so  many  hands  could  not  be  em- 
ployed to  advantage,  and  I  proposed,  in  its  stead,  to 
name  something  which  I  said  ought  to  interest  all 
the  neighbors. 

A  quiet  httle  fellow,  named  Jose  Ravela,  promptly 
answered,  in  the  name  of  his  companions,  that  they 
had  come  to  offer  me  their  services  in  whatever  way 


90  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

Avould  be  most  acceptable,  and  I  bad  only  to  signify 
my  wisbes. 

I  pointed  ont,  in  a  few  words,  tbat  tbe  neigbbor- 
bood  was  utterly  destitute  of  a  cart  road  to  tbe  port, 
tbougb  it  was  but  a  mile  distant  fi'om  tbeir  centre 
of  settlement  at  tbe  edge  of  tbe  prairie. 

"Does  Seuor  Vecino  (Se5or  neigbbor)  say  we 
ougbt  to  make  tbis  road  ?"  asked  Jose,  evidently  taken 
by  surprise. 

"  Yes,"  I  boldly  replied,  "  and  we  ougbt  to  make 
it  now  wbile  tbe  season  favors  us.  If  we  unite  our 
efforts  for  one  day  in  a  week,  we  can  open  for  our- 
selves a  fine,  firm,  straigbt  road  in  a  couple  of  montbs. 
It  will  barden  and  improve  wbile  our  crops  are  grow- 
ing, and  wben  tbey  are  gatbered  we  can  take  tbem 
to  Palenque  in  carts,  at  balf  tbe  expense  and  trouble 
it  now  costs  to  caiTy  tbem  as  you  do,  on  tbe  backs 
of  mules  and  donkeys." 

"  Enougb.  We  are  all  ready  to  follow  you  in  tbe 
work,"  was  tbe  cordial  response  of  tbe  most  influen- 
tial voices  present. 

Tbis   road    bad  occupied  my  tbougbts  for   some 


Life     in     St.    Domingo,  91 

time,  niid  I  h:i<l  carefully  examined  the  lay  of  the 
land.  In  effect,  the  line  of  the  road  was  so  easy  and 
obvious,  that  I  had  in  a  measure  traced  it  out  in  ad- 
vance. This  volunteer  force  enabled  me  to  begin  it 
well,  and,  once  begun,  I  could  foresee  a  way  to  have 
it  completed. 

The  great  coast  highway  from  Santo  Domingo  to 
Azua  skirts  our  savanna  for  several  miles,  leaving  a 
belt  of  woodland,  between  it  and  the  sea,  but  sparsely 
dotted  with  small  cleared  fields.  Mine  lay  about  mid- 
way between  the  prairie  edge  and  the  Bay  of  Palen- 
que,  but  I  had  no  more  interest  than  the  poorest  of  my 
farming  neighbors  in  opening  this  cross  road  from 
the  highway  along  the  savanna  to  our  common  sea- 
port at  Palenque,  and  all  of  us  together  scarcely  as 
much  as  any  one  of  the  large  landowners  like  Don 
Julio  Perez,  who  were  weekly  shipping  their  sugar 
and  fine  woods  from  this  point. 

Armed  with  axe  and  machete,  my  neighbors  and  I 
lost  no  time  in  commencing  the  work  at  the  nearest 
point,  according  to  my  plan  ;  and,  taking  the  direction 
of  Palenque,  we  cut  away  witli  such  energy,  that  by 


92  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

sunset  we  had  oi^eued  a  long  vista  between  the  walls 
of  verdure  on  either  hand,  to  the  unbounded  satisfac- 
tion of  the  company.  There  were  no  large  trees  to 
dispose  of,  and  the  nature  of  the  ground  is  extreme- 
ly favorable  ;  so  our  progress  was  rajjid,  and  our  in- 
dustry told  well  to  the  eyes  and  hearts  of  the  labor- 
ers. 

The  idea  of  a  road  of  "  our  own,"  where  it  was  so 
much  needed  and  so  easily  made,  captivated  all, 
and  before  we  dispersed  it  was  unanimously  agreed 
that  the  neighbors  should  again  unite  their  forces  and 
continue  the  work  for  three  successive  Saturdays  at 
least. 

On  this  I  told  the  company  that  I  felt  that  we  had 
earned  the  right  to  call  on  Don  Julio  Perez  and  the 
large  proprietors,  who  used  Palenque  as  the  shipping 
port  for  their  rice,  sugar,  and  precious  woods,  to  do 
their  proportion  towards  opening  a  road  so  useful  to 
their  leading  objects  of  business.  My  hearers  were 
perfectly  enchanted  with  the  brilliant  audacity  of  an 
appeal  to  the  rich  proprietors,  and  pledged  them- 
selves over  and  over  again,  with  great  heartiness,  to 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  93 

undertake  with  me  the  half  of  the  road  on  our  prairie 
side,  if  Don  Juho  would  engage  for  himself  and 
friends  to  make  the  portion  that  traversed  their  own 
wild  lands  around  Palenque. 

When  I  broached  the  matter  to  him  I  fancied  that 
Don  Julio  was  slightly  astonished  at  the  bold  ur- 
gency of  a  poor  stranger,  but  I  insisted  upon  his  at- 
tention to  its  bearings  on  his  own  interests,  and  Avon 
from  him  a  promise  that  he  and  his  friends  would  do 
their  pai't,  after  J"  and  tny  humble  friends  (who  were 
so  much  less  able,  and  so  much  less  to  be  profited 
by  it)  had  fulfilled  our  proportion  of  the  under- 
taking. 

Resolved  not  to  spare  my  own  full  share  of  efibrt, 
I  spent  most  of  the  week  in  chopping  up  and  remov- 
ing to  one  side  of  the  lane  the  brush  which  remained 
in  the  way.  My  new  fence  was  lined  with  it,  and  to 
this  Juan  and  I  put  the  finishing  bars  and  stakes  as 
we  went  along.  It  was  done  on  Thursday,  and  my 
field  was  now  not  only  completely  enclosed,  but  every 
tree  in  it  carefully  trimmed  of  dead  and  superfluous 
limbs.     All  of  Friday  was  given  to  marking  out  the 


94  Life    in     St.    Domingo, 

work  for  my  neighbors,  when  they  should  collect  in 
force  for  road-making  the  next  day. 

They  were  ti'ue  to  their  word,  and  the  day's 
work  told  wonderfully.  The  first  twenty  yards  were 
close  chaj^paral,  but  beyond  that  stretched  a  long 
grassy  strip  of  jjlain  ground,  which  gave  us,  ready 
made,  near  three  hundred  yards  of  excellent  road 
from  nature's  own  hand.  Farther  on,  our  lane  cut 
through  the  border  of  an  abandoned  field,  leaving  on 
either  hand  just  enough  young  trees  to  ensure  a 
charming  shade. 

Placing  Juan  with  two  assistants  at  one  end  of 
this  troublesome  patch  of  chapparal,  and  Jose  Ravela 
on  the  opposite  side,  I  directed  them  to  cut  towards 
each  other  until  they  met,  while  I  crossed  the  open 
glade  with  the  main  force  and  continued  the  lane  on- 
ward. By  so  doing  the  two  sections  laid  oif  for  the 
forenoon  were  both  well  opened  at  half-past  eleven, 
when  we  called  a  rest. 

TVe  had  our  luncheon  on  another  small  open  glade, 
at  the  termination  of  the  second  section  of  the  morn- 
inac's   work.     From  thence  we  looked  back  with  de- 


Life     in     St.    Domingo,  95 

light,  through  a  beautiful  straight  laue,  to  the  point 
of  commencement. 

The  afternoon's  work  did  not  show  so  well ;  for  after 
passing  the  old  field,  and  the  little  glade  beyond  it 
where  the  former  cultivator  once  had  his  cottage  and 
door-yard,  we  entered  the  real  forest.  But  this  was 
the' domain  of  Don  Julio,  and,  in  strict  justice,  to  him 
rather  than  to  us  belonged  the  charge  of  the  road 
hence  to  the  sea.  Our  remaining  woi'k  lay  at  the 
other  end  of  the  line,  towards  the  prairie,  and  was 
to  be  resumed  at  our  first  starting-point  and  carried 
out  to  where  it  would  strike,  nearly  at  right  angles, 
the  royal  highway.  Still  we  dented  our  lane  a  few 
rods  into  the  forest  border,  so  as  to  connect  it  with  a 
beaten  horse-path,  leading  down  to  the  port  and 
fishing-groimds  of  Palenque ;  and  we  worked  zeal 
ously  to  efiect  this  before  we  separated. 

The  axe  was  still  ringing,  and  the  machete  merrily 
plying  among  the  falling  limbs,  when  Don  Julio  rode 
in  among  us  from  the  winding  Palenque  path.  He 
trampled  through  and  over  the  last  felled  branches, 
and  reined   up  at  the  head  of  the  long  line  of  light 


96  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

opened  by  our  lane,  with  a  strong  exclamation  of 
delighted  surprise.  That  one  long,  earnest  gaze 
through  the  clear  vista  carried  a  more  direct  convic- 
tion to  his  heart  than  a  thousand  arguments.  In  show- 
ing him  what  we  had  done,  it  told  him  what  he  ought 
to  do.     When  he  spoke  it  was  to  the  purpose. 

"  This  road  is  exactly  what  we  want,  my  friends," 
he  said,  warmly  : — "  what  every  man  with  a  ceroon 
of  sugar  or  a  stick  of  timber  has  suflFered  for  these 
thirty  years,  and  it  shall  be  finished  forthwith." 

This  announcement  was  received  with  enthusiasm, 
and  the  spirit  of  mutual  helpfulness  which  took  form 
that  evening  has  been  in  active  operation  the  whole 
month,  and  with  the  month  the  road  has  been  com- 
pleted. 

March  has  been  what  it  should  be,  by  natural  laws, 
— a  season  of  fruit-grafting  and  road-making.  The 
last  Sunday  of  the  month,  Don  Julio  sent  a  horse 
for  me  to  join  him  and  a  party  of  his  friends  in  a  ride 
to  the  peerless  bathing-coves  of  Palenque,  through 
our  new  and  straight  road,  and  through  it  back  again 
to  a  supper  at  his  house. 


Life     in     St.    Domijstgo.  97 

I  return  from  it  to  close  my  record  for  the  muntb, 
and  to  add  that  the  fact  of  my  working  among  work- 
ingmen  for  my  daily  bread  has  not  unfitted  me, 
either  in  my  own  estimation,  nor,  so  far  as  I  can  see, 
in  the  estimation  of  Don  JuUo's  aristocratic  circle, 
for  the  free  interchange  of  useful  plans  and  ideas,  if 
I  happen  to  jDOSsess  any,  with  these  privileged  "  ex- 
empts" from  manual  toil.  Remember,  honest  fellow- 
toiler,  it  is  ignorance^  not  industry^  that  dwarfs  and 
debases  those  men  without   manhood    who   would 

rather  heg  than  loorJc. 
5 


98  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 


CHAPTER  V. 


Ploughing-match  at  Don  Julio's. — Stupid  native. — Unruly  oxen. — 
An  unlooked-for  assistant. — Don  Delfino  de  Castro. — Achieve  a 
great  victory. — Compliments  and  congratulations. — Return 
to  Buena  Yista. — Important  changes. — An  "Eden  of  tranquil- 
lity."'— A  guest  for  the  night. — He  proposes  to  remain  longer. — 
Camp  cooking  and  coffee-making.— Compact  with  Don  Delfino.— 
What  we  do  together. — His  man  Isidro. — Beautiful  appearance 
of  my  orange  avenue. — Plentiful  showers. — Fragrant  blossoms. 
— Crowning  triumph  of  my  garden. 

Fragra:xt  April  has  come  aud  gone.  Balmy  and 
flower-laden  is  April  everywhere,  but  eminently  frar 
grant  and  blossoming  here,  where  fruits  and  flowers 
crown  every  month  of  the  year  wdth  garlands  of 
beauty.  Strictly  speaking,  the  "  Avet  season"  com- 
mences in  May,  but  there  are  few  years  in  w^hich  the 
frequent  and  refreshing  showers  of  April  will  not  jus- 
tify early  planting,  particularly  of  corn,  potatoes,  and 
beans,  all  of  them  inost  excellent  and  paying  crops  in 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  99 

the  West  Indies.  It  is  always  within  the  compass  of 
the  poorest  man,  if  lie  is  willing  to  work,  to  produce 
these  crops  in  sufficient  abundance  for  the  comfort- 
able support  of  a  plain  farmer's  family. 

Juan,  who  has  stood  by  me  so  faithfully  in  my 
clearing,  fencing,  road-making,  and  fruit  culture,  is 
now  busy  in  getting  his  own  crop  in  the  ground,  and 
can  only  work  for  me  two  or  three  forenoons  in.  the 
week.  I  had  arranged  my  plans  to  meet  this  limit- 
ed amount  of  help,  when  a  timely  accession  of  aid 
and  encouragement  burst  in  from  a  most  unexpected 
quarter. 

Don  Julio  had  offered  to  lend  me  a  yoke  of  oxen 
to  break  up  my  land,  and  I  had  proffered  in  return 
the  use  of  my  plough  to  turn  up  an  old  field  adjoin- 
ing his  hou-e,  which  he  desired  to  plant  with  coffee. 
I  had  no  will  to  trust  my  heavy  plough  to  his  igno- 
rant field-hands  and  ill-trained  oxen,  and  therefore 
proposed  to  do  the  work  myself  at  a  specified  time. 

We  had  several  falls  of  rain  in  the  first  tAvo  weeks 
of  April ;  and  a  succession  of  three  smart  showers 
within  the  space  of  seven  days  is  warrant  enough  for 


100  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

any  farmer  to  begin  his  planting  iu  Santo  Domingo. 
It  had  rained  nearly  the  whole  afternoon  and  night 
of  Saturday,  and  when  the  plough  and  I  made  our 
appearance  at  Don  Julio's,  early  on  Monday,  we  found 
not  only  the  ground  in  a  splendid  condition  to  do  us 
credit,  but  also  a  goodly  company  assembled  to 
award  us  all  the  honor  ploiigh  and  I  could  possibly 
win  by  our  best  efforts. 

The  oxen  were  led  out,  the  plough  attached,  and 
the  first  furrow  laid  off  with  great  eclat,  but  on  turn- 
ing the  second,  the  oxen — probably  discovering  that 
there  was  something  unusual  and  tm-Dominican  m 
these  proceedings — suddenly  became  obstinate  and 
unruly. 

The  man  who  worked  them  was  rather  more 
stupid  and  unmanageable  than  the  oxen,  and  for  a 
moment  we  had  an  awkward  "  balk"  in  the  plough- 
ing. A  Seiior  Delfino  de  Castro,  who  had  come 
over  from  his  farm  on  the  San  Cristoval  road — a 
man  endowed  with  that  most  uncommon  gift  among 
the  Dominicans,  the  right  manly  use  of  his  hands — 
promptly  stepped  to  the  rescue.     Dismissing  the  con- 


Life     in     St,    Domingo.         101 

fused  and  clamorous  negro  driver,  Don  Delfino  took 
the  guidance  of  the  half- wild  oxen,  while  I  held  the 
plough.  The  piece  laid  off  for  the  first  day  contained 
twelve  tascas — that  is  to  say,  the  full  allotment  of 
twelve  days'  work  for  an  able-bodied  man  to  cut  up 
with  the  lioe — and,  as  I  proved  it  afterwards,  not  far 
from  half  an  acre. 

As  the  deep  true  furrows  were  run,  and  line  after 
line  of  clean  dark  loam  lay  upturned  to  the  fei'tiliziug 
sun  and  showers,  and  to  such  purpose  as  no  man  pre- 
sent except  myself  had  ever  seen  the  soil  cut  and 
stirred  before,  the  first  deep  silence  of  watchful  doubt 
turned  into  murmurs  of  pleased  surprise.  When  the 
last  ribbon  of  green  was  turned  under  and  disappear- 
ed before  the  cleaving  ploughshare,  the  whole  com- 
pany gathered  round  Delfino  and  myself,  to  over- 
power us  with  compliments  and  congratulations. 

How  strongly  did  I  realize  that  there  is  a  true 
dignity  in  labor  when  it  is  useful  and  well  performed, 
and  when  the  laborer  does  not  disgrace  himself  and 
his  calUng  by  being  ashamed  of  it.  This  circle  of 
wealthy  non-workers  were  at  least  competent  to  bal- 


102         Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

ance  the  results  of  that  forenoon  with  the  plough 
against  the  shallow,  uncertain  work  of  twelve  men 
with  the  heavy  native  hoe,  and  estimate  its  value.  It 
was  even  more  than  so  much  human  labor  saved,  for 
in  the  effective  preparation  of  the  soil  we  had  done 
the  work  of  twenty  men,  as  the  Dominicans  man- 
age it. 

Not  one  of  that  circle,  except  Delfino,  had  the 
force,  moral,  mental,  or  physical,  to  do  the  same, 
but  not  the  less  did  they,  one  and  all,  treat  us — the 
hard-handed  victors  of  toil — as  the  es.)ecial  and  hon- 
ored guests  of  the  noble  entertainment  which  Don 
Julio  had  ordered  for  the  celebration  of  what  he  was 
pleased  to  call  the  "  introduction  of  Prince  Plough  to 
his  agricultural  subjects  in  his  future  realm  of  Santo 
Domingo." 

It  was  a  brilliant  evening  for  me.  The  remarks  of 
those  educated  and  high-bred  gentlemen  were  of  ab- 
sorbing interest,  and  promise  an  abiding  utility  in  my 
guidance.  I  enjoyed  much,  and  learned  more,  in  the 
social  flow  of  Dominican  thoughts,  habits,  and  expo 
riences,  and  I  left  the  charming  circle  with  regret. 


Life     in     St.     Domingo.  103 

Dou  Julio  urged  me  to  remain  for  the  night,  but  I 
had  work  hiid  out  at  home  which  I  could  not  afford 
to  neglect ;  but,  that  done,  I  promised  to  return  and 
finish  ploughing  the  field  which  we  had  commenced 
with  so  much  honor. 

Tlie  next  morning  but  one  found  me  at  his  place 
bright  and  early,  and  the  day  after  also ;  which  fin- 
ished the  field,  and  my  engagement,  and  left  me  free 
to  plough  and  plant  for  myself,  with  the  use  of  a 
strong  pair  of  oxen  as  long  as  I  required. 

Yet  this  interval  of  three  days  had  wrought  some 
changes  of  no  mean  iinportaiice  to  my  plnn  of  life. 
They  originated  on  the  memorable  evening  of  the 
plough  festival,  which  I  had  passed  so  agreeably  in 
the  social  circle  of  Don  Julio  and  his  intimates,  but 
which  I  was  forced  to  leave  rather  early,  to  be  home 
in  reasonable  season,  and  ready  to  attend  betimes  to 
some  work  set  apart  for  the  morrow. 

On  leaving,  Don  Delfino  said  he  should  bear  me 
company  a  part  of  the  way,  and  we  started  together. 

The  night  was  soft  as  June,  the  road  open  and 
level  all  the  way — thanks  to  our  exertions  in  cutting 


10-i         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

a  straight  lane  through  the  timber — aud  the  coaver- 
sation  so  interesting  that  Delfino  made  no  motion  of 
turning  back  imtil  we  stood  side  by  side  before  my 
tent,  looking  roimd  at  the  beautiful  effect  of  the  star- 
light on  the  open  space,  belted  in  by  a  dark  wall  of 
woodlands,  and  picturesquely  dotted  by  the  groups 
of  fruit-trees  rescued  from  the  wilderness. 

"What  an  Eden  of  tranquillity!"  said  Delfino. 
"  It  disinclines  rae  to  return  to  Don  Julio's  to-night." 

"  I  have  a  spare  hammock,  Don  Delfino,  and  this 
rer/c  and  cot  are  altogether  at  your  service,  if  you  wall 
favor  me  with  your  company." 

'■'•3111  gracias, — a  thousand  thanks — but  I  will  not 
consent  to  rob  you  of  your  house.  I  am  an  old  cam- 
paigner, aud  want  nothing  better  than  the  hammock. 
In  a  word,  it  shall  be  that  and  nothing  else,  or  I  go 
back  to  Don  Julio's.     Which  say  you?" 

"  Oh,  the  hammock,  by  all  means,  since  you  leave 
me  no  choice,  and  I  will  sling  it  at  once,"  I  answered, 
moving  into  the  tent  to  strike  a  light  and  begin  oper- 
ations. 

"First  tell  me  what  this  is,"   interrupted  Delfino, 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  105 

taking  the  direction  of  tlie  old  cabin,  whicli  is  now 
completely  embowered  in  a  palisade  of  Lima  beans 
in  full  bearing. 

"That  is  my  workshop,  tool-house,  and  kitchen, 
Don  Deltiuo.  Here,  in  this  rustic  porch  of  my  own 
construction,  my  meals  are  cooked.  You  can  see  my 
calabash  bowls  and  cocoa-nut  cups  on  that  shelf 
This  is  my  dining-table,  made  out  of  the  smallest  of 
the  two  packing-boxes  in  which  I  brought  my 
efiects ;  the  largest  supplied  me  that  cupboard  be- 
side the  dooi'." 

"  You  are  an  independent  hermit,  amigo  inio^'' 
said  Delfino,  gayly,  "  and  I  am  glad  to  see  you  light 
up  the  interior  of  this  sanctum,  that  I  may  study  it 
the  more  closely." 

T  had  touched  a  match  to  a  candle  while  he  was 
speaking,  and  held  it  up  to  give  him  the  view  he  de- 
sired. 

"  What  can  this  fantastic  little  plough  do  ?"  He 
had  glanced  into  every  corner  with  the  restless  curi- 
osity of  a  school-boy  let  loose  in  a  lumber-room,  and 

now  brought  out  a  small  patent  "cultivator,"  with  as 
5* 


106  Life     in     St.    D  o  m  i  x  g  o  . 

much  glee  as  the  same  school-boy  might  feel  on  the 
discovery  of  a  three- wheeled  cart  in  some  dark  re- 
cess. 

"That  fantastic  little  plough,  as  you  call  it,  Don 
Delfino,  is  intended  to  cut  down  the  weeds  in  planted 
fields,  is  made  A^ery  light,  though  strong,  to  be 
drawn  by  a  small  donkey.  The  donke^'  is  the  cheap- 
est animal-power  in  this  country,  and  therefore  the 
most  suitable  for  a  poor  beginner  Uke  me." 

"  This  is  something  really  new,"  said  Delfino,  ex- 
amining it  with  attention,  "  and  almost  as  important 
as  the  plough.  When  do  you  exj)ect  to  use  the  Httle 
beauty  ?" 

"To-morrow  morning,"  I  replied.  "These  late 
showers  have  brought  out  a  rank  crop  of  weeds  in 
what  I  call  my  winter  garden.  They  must  be  cut 
down  before  I  begin  any  new  work,  or  even  finish 
Don  Julio's  ploughing." 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  exclaimed  Delfino.  "  To- 
morrow morning.  Then  I  shall  see  the  performance. 
Let  me  be  your  hiirroquero — your  donkey-driver  ?" 
I  could  not  but  smile  at  Delfino's  enthusiasm,  but  I 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  107 

told  him  that  one  man,  or,  for  that  matter,  a  boy  of 
twelve  years,  would  be  quite  sufficient  for  the  man- 
agement of  both  the  donkey  and  the  weeder. 

"  Kevertheless  I  shall  ask  your  permission  to  learn 
the  use  of  this  gem  of  an  earth-cutter  to-morrow," 
said  Delfino.  "  And  like  the  knight  of  old,  on  the 
vigil  of  his  initiation,  I  shall  sleep  by  ray  weapons," 
he  added,  seizing  upon  the  hammock,  which  just 
then  caught  his  eye  suspended  from  the  rafters. 

"  But  the  tent  is  much  more  cool  and  pleasant,"  I 
remonstrated,  "and  it  would  pain  me  to  have  you 
lodged  midst  this  chaos  of  farming  utensils." 

"I  have  made  a  vow  to  sleep  here  this  night,"  re- 
plied the  self-willed  Delfino,  tightening  the  hammock 
cords  as  he  spoke.  "  Not  only  this  night,  but,  if  God 
pleases,  and  you  do  not  object,  amigo  mio,  many 
other  nights.  I  intend  to  enlist  under  the  flag  of 
Prince  Plough  and  General  Weeder,  if  you  will  con- 
sent to  be  my  captain." 

"  I  shall  be  proud  of  my  soldier,"  I  answered, 
catching  the  light,  laughing  spirit  of  my  self-elected 
guest  and  pupil.     "  But  you  will  please  to  remember 


108  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

that  obedience  is  a  primary  military  duty,  and  I,  in 
virtue  of  my  captainship,  insist  on  your  instantly 
taking  up  your  quarters  in  the  tent." 

"Pardon  me,  captain,"  replied  Delfino,  throwing 
himself  into  the  hammock.  "  But  it  is  a  condition 
precedent  to  enlistment,  that  no  soldier  can  possibly 
be  ordered  to  commit  such  a  scandalous  breach  of 
military  propriety  as  to  usurp  his  ojSicer's  personal 
quarters.  Such  an  impossibility  is  out  of  the  sphere 
of  discussion." 

Finding  Delfino  immovable  in  his  resolutions,  I 
left  him  in  possession  of  the  cabin  and  retired  to  my 
tent  for  the  night.  When  I  awoke  in  the  morning 
it  was  already  sunrise,  and  I  started  up  in  haste,  to 
prepare  for  my  guest  the  early  cup  of  coffee  with 
which  the  Dominicans  begin  the  day.  As  I  turned 
the  corner  of  the  cabin  to  enter  the  arbor  kitchen,  I 
beheld  Delfino  in  high  stir  among  the  cups  and  coffee, 
by  the  lighted  fire.  I  well-nigh  forgot  the  courtesy 
of  a  morning  salutation  in  my  astonishment  at  the 
grave  intentness  of  his  preoccupation. 

"  Do  you  propose  studying  camp  cookery  as   well 


LiFK    IN     St.    Domingo.  109 

as  Yankee  farming  under  my  direction,  Don  Delfi- 
no  ?"  I  inquired  as  I  joined  him. 

"  Drop  all  titles,  and  call  me  Delfino  simply  and 
frankly,  like  a  true  friend  and  worthy  instructor. 
Learn  camp  cookery  of  you,  my  captain  ?  No,  it  is 
I  who  will  iave  to  teach  you  that  delicate  art. 
Here,  for  example,  I  offer  you  a  cup  of  coffee  worthy 
the  palate  of  a  professor  of  agriculture." 

"  But  really,  Don  Delfino" — I  began,  but  I  was 
cut  short  with — "  Really,  my  Captain,  you  should  not 
descend  to  these  altercations  with  Delfino  the  pupil, 
much  less  vath  Delfino  the  cook.  Sip  your  cof 
fee  in  peace,  and  leave  the  culinary  department  to 
me." 

The  coffee  was  disposed  of,  and  the  "  weeder" 
brought  forth  for  duty  without  waste  of  time,  for  the 
cool  morning  hours  are  precious  in  this  climate.  The 
donkey  was  a  rough  and  ragged  concern  of  Juan's, 
but,  like  all  his  race,  patient  and  steady. 

When  he  was  fairly  started,  Delfino  would  hear  of 
nothing  but  taking  the  entire  charge  of  weeding  tho 
plat.     "  Burro  is  in  my  line,"  said  he.      "  We  are 


110  LiFK     IN     St.    Domingo. 

brotlier  Dominicans  and  perfectly  understand  each 
other;"  and  away  he  went,  driving  the  animal  through 
the  close  lines  of  beans,  corn,  ocra,  and  young  toma- 
toes, with  much  more  expertuess  than  I  had  yet  ac- 
quired in  managing  the  beast. 

We  had  to  contrive  a  muzzle  to  prevent  his  nip- 
ping the  tender  plants  right  and  left,  but  we  finally 
cured  him  of  the  trick,  when  Burro  became — as  he 
did  two  weeks  later — ^my  own  property. 

The  morning  wore  on,  but  Delfino,  so  far  from  be- 
ing daunted  by  the  heat  and  grime  of  this  unusual 
labor,  v.-as  enchanted  with  his  success.  The  ease 
and  ijerfectiou  with  which  the  light  cultivator  shears 
oiT  the  weeds,  and  throws  the  loosened  earth  about 
the  roots  of  the  plants,  delighted  him  beyond  meas- 
ure. He  entreated  me  to  leave  him  alone  to  finish 
the  last  remaining  section  of  my  March  planting, 
while  I  went  along  with  the  hoe  among  the  borders 
of  ginger  and  arrowroot,  edging  the  cross  path  of  the 
winter  garden. 

•Vs  Delfino  really  left  me  no  option  on  that  point, 
I  did  as  he  wished. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  Ill 

Ginger  and  arrowroot  resemble  each  other  in  their 
long,  bright,  green  leaves,  somewhat  like  those  of 
the  common  garden  lily,  and  besides  the  value  of 
their  productive  roots,  they  form  a  beautiful  border 
to  walks  and  vegetable  plats.  I  had  collected  the 
bulbs  from  the  grounds  of  ray  neighbors,  but  mainly 
from  Don  Julio's  garden,  and  the  neat  effect  of  these 
miniature  hedges,  defining  the  pathways  to  the  spring 
and  through  the  garden,  had  elicited  flattering  com- 
ments from  Delfino. 

I  did  not  complete  my  task  until  the  sun  rode 
almost  noon  high,  but  Delfino  had  already  run  the 
"  weeder"  through  every  row  of  corn  and  vegetables 
open  to  it,  and  was  repeating  the  operation  quite 
needlessly,  here  and  there,  when  I  came  to  take  Bur- 
ro out  of  harness. 

Juan  had  brought  over  the  donkey  very  early,  by 
appointment,  and  I  took  occasion  to  send  a  private 
hint  to  Anita  that  her  aid  would  be  welcome  in  pro- 
viding a  dinner  for  my  visitor.  I  did  not,  therefore, 
feel  so  much  surprise  as  Delfino  manifested,  on  find- 
ing a  warm  and  not  unpalatable  meal  ready  for  us 


112  Life     in     St.    Domingo, 

■w^'heu  we  returried  to  the  cabin  arlior  to  wash  oft'  the 
dust  of  the  mornhig's  toil. 

We  were  lounging  away  the  usual  after-dinner  hour 
of  rest,  chatting  of  books,  politics,  and  farming  in  quiet 
ease,  Delfino  always  talking  as  if  it  was  perfectly  un- 
derstood that  I  was  to  teach  him  all  I  knew  myself 
respecting  the  most  improved  implements  of  husban- 
dry, when  he  suddenly  renewed  his  proposal  "to 
commence  his  agricultural  studies  practically  and 
immediately." 

"  You  do  not  think  I  am  serious  when  I  assure  you 
that  I  am  anxious  to  live  here  and  work  for  you  a 
month  or  two,"  said  he,  abruptly,  dashing  away  his 
cigar,  and  turning  around  with  an  air  of  almost 
defiant  determination,  that  startled  me  into  sober 
attention. 

"  You  live  here  in  this  wild  way,  Don  Delfino  ?  A 
gentleman  of  your  habits  and  position  undertake 
to  work  for  me  ?  You  must  be  dreaming — or  I  am," 
I  exclaimed. 

"  Peter  of  Russia  lived  no  better  and  worked  as 
hard  among  the  shipwrights  of  Holland,  when  he 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.  113 

went  to  learn  how  to  create  n,  navy.  He  Avas  an 
Emperor,  and  had  the  powei'  to  build  ships  without 
working  on  them  himself,  but  I  am  only  a  plain  Do- 
minican planter,  and  there  is  no  way  for  me  to  acquire 
the  capacity  to  create  such  a  place  as  I  want,  and 
such  as  I  mean  to  possess,  unless.  I  put  my  own  eyes 
and  hands  to  the  work." 

"  But  my  arrangements  are  so  miserably  inade- 
quate," I  continued,  glancing  at  the  obvious  poverty 
of  my  domestic  surroundings. 

"  Never  fear  for  that,"  answered  Delfino,  gayly ; 
"  what  we  cannot  amend  we  will  endure.  Let  us  fon- 
cy  ourselves  travellers  exploring  a  newly-discovered 
countiy.  We  will  rejoice  together  over  the  difficul- 
ties we  conquer  and  the  novelties  we  win,  instead  of 
repining  for  what  we  have  voluntarily  left  behind." 

"  Be  it  as  you  will,"  I  said  at  last,  finding  argu- 
ment useless ;  "  but  let  me  warn  you,"  I  added,  se- 
riously, "  that  mine  is  a  workingman's  life  in  hard 
earnest.  I  am  a  poor  man  struggling  to  make  a 
home,  and  my  steady  toil  and  coarse  fare  cannot  suit 
one  of  your  habits." 


114  Life     in     St.    D 


O  M  I  N  G  O 


"  Try  me,"  replied  Delfino,  laughing.  "  You  have 
no  right  to  set  me  down  as  an  idle  goiirmand,  inca- 
pable of  useful  efforts,  until  you  have  measured  me 
fairly.  But  here  comes  one  of  our  friend  Julio's 
servants,  to  remind  us  that  we  snp  with  him  this 
evening." 

Delfino  replied  to  the  message  for  both  of  us,  but 
he  would  not  start  for  Don  Julio's  until  after  he  had 
made  the  round  of  my  fruit-trees  in  the  afternoon. 
The  pulpy  custard  apple,  the  delicate  caimeto,  and 
the  refreshing  soursop,  were  full  of  ripe,  dehcious 
fruit.  These  were  the  old  trees  which  I  had  relieved 
of  dead  limbs  and  the  suffocating  thicket  of  January, 
and  they  now  loom  up  grandly  on  the  left  side  of  the 
Buena  Vista  Mound. 

"  That  clump  of  lofty  and  spreading  trees  vrould 
be  an  ornament  to  the  finest  grounds  in  America,"  I 
observed  to  Delfino ;  "  such  groups  are  very  com- 
mon here ;  yet  few  Dominicans  seem  to  appreciate 
their  beauty,  or  value  the  luxury  of  a  succession 
of  choice  fruits  the  whole  year  through." 

"  It  is  human  nature  to  iindervalue  blessings  so 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  115 

freely  bestowed,"  said  Delfino  :  "  but  what  is  all 
this  ?  Have  you  a  hospital  of  maimed  and  bandaged 
trees  ?" 

He  had  stopped  to  examine  my  grafted  orange- 
trees.  I  explained  the  process,  of  which  he  had  read 
something,  but  now  saw  for  the  first  time  in  opera- 
tion. The  grafts  were  putting  forth  their  fresh 
crowns,  and  all  were  doing  Avell. 

"You  will  have  abundance  of  oranges  in  two  or 
three  years,"  said  Delfino,  at  the  close  of  my  ex- 
planations, "but  are  not  these  trees  too  close  to- 
gether ?" 

"I  hope  to  transplant  them,  about  the  close  of  this 
month,  in  a  double  line  along  the  walk  I  am  laying 
off  from  the  spring  to  Buena  Vista — tlie  site,  if  God 
prospers  the  wish,  of  my  future  dwelling." 

"  I  too  wiU  plant  an  orange  avenue  this  very  year," 
said  Delfino,  as  we  walked  back  to  the  house.  "  It 
must  wait,  however,  till  our  corn-fields  are  plantcu, 
for  we  cannot  be  sure  of  two  full  crops  before  De- 
cember, if  the  April  planting  is  not  a  foot  high  the 
first  morning  in  May." 


116  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

"We  went  together  to  sup  nnd  sleep  at  Don  Julio' .<, 
and  to  talk  over  with  him  Delfino's  project  of  working 
awhile  with  me  at  Buena  Vista.  Don  Julio  enjoyed 
the  idea  exceedingly,  and  pointed  out  means  for  sev- 
eral minor  accommodations,  which  we  acted  upon  at 
once. 

Anita,  for  example,  was  engaged  as  a  sort  of  day 
housekeeper,  and  Delfino  observed  that  he  had  an  ac- 
tive, intelligent  young  man  named  Isidro  on  his  place, 
who  should  be  sent  down  immediately,  with  a  stout 
horse  for  the  single  plough,  to  learn  the  art  of 
ploughing  in  company  with  his  master. 

All  this  was  speedily  settled  upon,  and  after  a  fly- 
ing visit  home  Delfino  himself  joined  us  in  two  dnys 
after,  and  with  this  force  the  farming  business  went 
on  rapidly.  The  heavy  ox  plough  went  through  all 
its  share  of  the  work  in  ten  days.  Delfino  and  I 
ploughed  in  the  forenoon,  and  Isidro  took  his  turn  in 
the  afternoon. 

The  "  brush  harrow"  which  I  improvised,  in  de- 
fault of  the  legitimate  article,  amused  Delfino  hugely. 
It  would  have   been  a  sight  to   a  o^entleman  farmer 


Life     in     St,    Domingo,  117 

of  the  United  States  to  see  him  managing  his  horse 
with  this  immense  bundle  of  brush  on  one  side  of 
the  ploughed  ground,  while  I  followed  hiin  with  the 
donkey,  "  marking"  off  the  corn-rows.  This,  and 
planting  the  corn,  was  our  afternoon's  work  when  it 
did  not  rain,  and  m  three  days  after  Don  Julio's  oxen 
were  sent  home  my  ground  was  all  seeded  in.  Juan 
and  Anita  volunteered  their  aid — she  in  dropping 
and  he  in  covering  the  corn,  as  fast  as  Delfino  har- 
rowed and  I  marked  off  the  ground.  So  many  hands 
made  speedy  work,  and  Delfino  never  flagged  until 
the  ploughing  and  planting  were  fully  and  thor- 
oughly finished. 

My  crop  is  now  well  above  ground.  Don  Delfino 
and  his  man  Isidro  left  me  to  return  home  this 
morning, — I  am  writing  these  last  lines  on  May-day 
eve, — and  with  them  w^ent  my  heavy  plough,  on  a 
six  weeks'  loan. 

On  average  returns  my  corn,  which  in  this  climate 
ought  to  be  in  market  in  September,  will  pay  for 
clearing  and  planting  twenty  acres  more  by  October. 
Meanwhile,  I  have  an  abundant  supply  of  vegetables 


118  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

for  my  own  use,  and  also  to  exchange  with  my  neigh- 
bors for  the  eggs,  poultry,  honey,  and  cassava  bread 
which  they  bring  to  me  almost  every  evening.  They 
lost  the  dry  season,  because  they  scorned  the  labor 
of  making  and  tending  seedling  beds.  The  care  of  a 
garden  through  the  dry  months  they  thought  an 
miprofitable  toil,  yet  they  do  not  scruple  to  barter 
with  me  for  ray  overplus  of  products,  in  return  for 
many  little  comforts  which  I  want  of  them,  on  what 
is  to  me  a  most  convenient  and  profitable  system  of 
exchange. 

By  the  middle  of  April,  I  had  almost  every  variety 
of  vegetables  that  is  to  be  found  in  the  New  York 
markets  in  June  ;  and  therefore  it  is  I  wish  to  note, 
that  whoever  is  willing  to  devote  to  it  a  few  days' 
labor,  may  keep  up  a  constant  supply  the  whole  year 
in  this  favored  climate. 

Four  months  have  fled  by,  like  a  pleasant  though 
busy  dream,  since  I  laid  myself  down  to  my  first 
night's  repose  in  my  "homestead."  The  Giver  of  all 
good  gifts  has  crowned  my  poor  efibrts  with  His 
tender  mercies,  and  as  I  look  up  from  these  pages  to 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  119 

glauee  through  the  arcade  of  fruit-yielding  trees,  and 
onward  to  the  gentle  hill-side,  now  green  with 
springing  corn,  and  beautiful  in  the  promise  of  fu- 
ture abundance,  I  feel  a  fervent  and  grateful  trust — 
far,  far  too  deep  for  my  weak  powers  of  utterance 
— that  He  will  never  forsake  the  humble  and  trustful 
laborer  in  this  fair  field  of  His  creation. 


120  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Fresh  encouragement. — Site  for  a  new  house. — The  ilango 
Avenue. — A  "trifling  incident." — A  rustic  gate. — A  shipwreck- 
ed sailor. — What  in  search  of. — Visit  from  Captain  Eamirez  of 
the  "Alice." — Satisfactory  solution  of  a  puzzling  questiort — A 
market  for  my  vegetables. — Don  Juho. — Ambitious  projects. — 
Picturesque  scenes. — Twenty-two  kinds  of  fruits  on  my  home- 
stead.— An  alluring  picture. — An  important  addition  to  my 
revenue. — I  hire  two  native  woodmen. — The  "New  Field." — 
Grateful  acknowledgments. 

The  labors  of  the  preceding  months  begin  to  speak 
encouragingly  to  the  eye  and  the  heart.  3Iy  crop  is 
waving  greenly  around  me ;  I  rest  securely  in  the 
trustworthiness  of  my  fences,  and  my  fruit-trees  are 
thriving  to  my  entire  satisfaction.  From  May  to  Oc- 
tober, the  season  of  almost  daily  rains,  is  the  proper 
time  for  transplanting  fruit-trees  and  shrubbery. 
During  five  months,  when  all  planting  is  intermitted 
throughout  the  United  States,  the  farmer  in  the  trop- 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  121 

ics  may  keep  on  the  whole  period,  putting  in  corn, 
cotton,  sugar,  and  other  crops,  perfectly  certain  that 
they  will  all  ripen  to  advantage  in  the  last  fall  and 
first  winter  months,  and  that  he  will  be  sure  to  have 
delightful  weather  through  most  of  January,  and  all 
of  February  and  March,  to  gather  in  his  successive 
harvests,  and  send  them  to  market. 

I  have  so  much  work  before  me  which  I  must  con- 
quer single-handed — or  be  conquered  by  it — that  I 
could  scarcely  hope  to  give  more  than  eight  or  ten 
days  of  May  to  my  favorite  project,  which  is  to  lay 
out  my  grounds,  and  plant  a  large  assortment  of 
fruits  early  in  the  season. 

I  was  anxious,  also,  about  the  means  of  clearing, 
fencing,  and  planting  the  southern  portion  of  my 
homestead ;  not  only  because  it  is  the  richest  and 
most  level  ground,  and  its  profits  needful  to  my  sup- 
port, but  because  opening  it  up  would  widen  my  sea 
prospect,  let  in  more  of  the  sea-breeze,  and  improve 
the  health  of  the  place,  if  it  has  any  defects  in  that 
way.  There  are  about  twenty  acres  in  this  tract 
and  much  of  it  heavily  timbered,  so  it  was  no  light 


122  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

task  for  iiie  to  undertake  with  tlie  scattering  half 
day's  help  I  might  receive  from  Juan.  Yet  "witliout 
breaking  over  one  of  my  strictest  self-imposed  rules 
and  running  into  the  slavery  of  debt  I  saw  no  other 
way  before  me. 

While  meditating  on  this,  I  did  not  slacken  my 
efforts  to  forward  the  work  in  hand,  and  went  on 
prej^aring  the  gromid  for  setting  out  long  avenues  of 
fruit-trees,  for  the  comfort  and  adornment  of  my 
future  house.  The  house  itself  is  far  in  the  future, 
years  perhaps,  but  meantime,  the  site  being  chosen, 
and  its  frontage,  if  not  its  dimensions,  well  settled  in 
mind,  every  tree  and  shrub  can  be  placed  in  accord- 
ance with  this  centre  and  pivot  of  the  general  plan. 
The  trees  may  be  growing  up,  during  this  mterval 
into  shady  avenues,  and  the  shrubs  may  go  on  matur- 
ing in  order  and  beauty,  so  that  if  there  does  come  to 
me  a  day  in  which  I  can  sit  down  to  rest  under  my 
own  commodious  roof,  all  these  surroundings  will 
have  ripened  into  a  happy  fitness,  and  make  a  com- 
plete and  harmonious  whole. 

The  "New  Road"  we  had  cut  to  bring  Port  Pal- 


LiFK     IN     St.    Domingo.  123 

enque  into  connection  with  the  great  coast  highway, 
and  tlie  hamlets  of  Savanna  Grande  limits  my  land 
on  that  side,  and  naturally  constitutes  the  base  line 
of  my  programme  of  improvements.  My  hoped  for 
dwelling — the  darling  air-castle  of  my  secret  thoughts 
— must  outlet  upon  this  road,  and  it  must  also  face 
the  sea  breeze. 

This  establishes  my  points  of  departure  for  every 
line  of  tree  planting  and  field  fencing, 

I  ara  more  than  contented  with  the  building  site 
accorded  to  me.  Buena  Vista,  crowning  an  airy  emi- 
nence, with  its  purCj  unfailing  spring  at  no  unreasona- 
ble distance,  is  far  enough  retired  from  the  road  to 
insure  tranquillity,  but  not  too  far  for  convenient  ac- 
cess. Here  then  I  find  my  natural  centre  of  opera- 
tions and  proper  place  of  beginning. 

I  opened  a  clear  lane,  thirty  feet  wide,  from  the 
house  site  to  the  road,  and  there  I  constructed  a 
rude  gate.  Patiently,  painfully,  steadily,  I  labored 
five  days  on  that  strip  of  ground ;  clearing  out  the 
smaller  stumps  and  reducing  the  larger  ones  to  the 
level  of  the  ground,  until  the  grade  was  complete 


124:  L I F  ]•:     IN     St.    Domingo. 

and  every  serious  obstacle  reinoveJ.  Along  the  road 
and  running  off  in  u  line,  on  each  side  of  the  gate,  I 
transplanted  three  almond-trees,  selected  from  a  clus- 
ter which  I  had  stumbled  upon  m  our  clearings  and 
preserved  for  this  purpose. 

The  abnendra,  or  wild  almond,  is  a  superb  tree, 
of  very  rapid  growth,  and  in  three  or  four  years  a 
row  of  half  a  dozen  on  the  line  of  the  road  wiil  form 
a  really  ornamental  shade  to  the  homestead  entrance. 

From  the  gate  up  to  the  front  of  the  house  site,  I 
planted  a  double  line  of  mangoes,  twenty  feet  apart, 
seven  each  side  of  the  avenue.  The  oriental  mango 
is  a  magnificent  shade  tree — to  my  mind  it  has  no 
peer  ]N"orth  or  South — never  changing,  winter  or  sum- 
mer, the  deep-toned  richness  of  its  dense  foliage, 
always  yielding  a  peculiarly  grateful  shade,  and  rarely 
failing  to  give  an  abundance  of  dehcious  fruit  in  May 
and  June,  for  it  is  a  most  generous  bearer.  From 
these  fourteen  mangoes  I  may — if  alive  and  here — 
confidently  hope  to  gather  fruit  in  three  years, 
when  they  will  probably  be  something  like  twenty 
feet  high.     They  are  now  only  about  twenty  inches 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  125 

above  ground,  but  they  are  sturdy  growers.  Don 
Julio  has  a  pair  of  mangoes  of  which  four  years  ago 
tliis  month  he  put  the  seed  in  tlie  ground,  after  eat- 
ing the  fruit  at  dinner.  They  are  now  loaded  with 
golden  fruit,  and.  very  nearly  if  not  quite  twenty  feet 
high.  From  them  I  took  the  hint  of  my  "mango 
avenue,"  and  from  his  garden  I  also  transplanted,  my 
young  trees. 

The  preparation  of  the  ground  and  the  planting  of 
thirty-six  trees  which  I  had  collected  here  and  there 
amongst  my  neighbors,  ran  away  with  the  first  week 
of  May. 

After  the  day's  work  was  over,  I  would  use  the 
evening  to  forage  the  neighborhood  for  every 
variety  of  fruit-tree  and.  ornamental  shi-ub  I  could 
muster.  My  chief  object  was  to  secure  a  succes- 
sion of  at  least  three  varieties  of  fruit — fresh  and 
good  for  my  own  trees — for  every  week  of  the 
year.  Another,  though  of  course  secondary,  design 
was  to  dot  the  circular  crest  of  Buena  Vista  with 
a  line  of  flowering  shrubs ;  not  high  enough  to  ex- 
clude the  sea  view,  but  sufficiently  so  to  define  the 


126  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

circuit  of  the  house-grounds,  while  it  regaled  the 
senses  with  the  beauty  and  fragrance  of  ever  re- 
newed blossoms. 

A  ti'ifling  incident  stimulated  me  into  a  settled 
plan,  and  a  persevering  course  of  effort,  to  obtain 
a  handsome  array  of  ornamental  plants,  by  teaching 
me  the  facility  with  which  it  could  be  accomplished. 

The  first  Sabbath  I  awoke  in  this  new  home  of  mine 
I  caught  with  the  rising  dew  the  sweet  odor  of  roses. 
On  looking  around  I  discovered,  almost  under  the 
eaves  of  the  old  cabin,  a  bush  of  deep  crimson  roses, 
crushed  nearly  out  of  sight  by  the  entangling  vines  of 
a  passion  flower.  I  tore  the  vines  apart  and  the  next 
morning  I  cut  some  forked  stakes  and  cross  rods  to 
frame  a  rustic  trellis  for  the  passion  flower.  The  vine 
bears  generously  and  its  thick  foliage  screens,  as  I 
am  now  writing,  the  roost  of  a  pair  of  fine  guinea 
fowls.  The  rose  was  left  to  grow  in  grace  and  bloom 
in  luxuriant  freedom  by  its  side. 

This  was  early  in  January,  and  now,  at  the  close  of 
May,  my  hardy  rose  is  still  crowned  with  flowers. 
How  long  it  will  continue  in  bearing  I  cannot  say, 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  127 

but  for  the  past  five  months  it  certainly  has  never 
been  more  than  three  days  at  a  time  without  blos- 
soms. This  country  is  so  kindly  and  fertile  in  vines 
and  shrubbery  that  any  man  who  will  give  a  few 
hours  work  iii  these  pleasant  May  mornings,  for 
planting,  and  an  occasional  half  hour  through  the 
summer  for  training  and  pruning  the  over  luxuriance 
of  stem  and  sprout,  may  convert  the  roughest  cabin 
into  a  bower  of  beauty. 

The  God-given  luxuries  of  fruits  and  flowers  are 
almost  as  free  as  air  on  the  Dominican  soil,  and  he  is 
an  ingrate  who  declines  the  use  of  the  beneficent  gifts. 
The  poorer  the  homestead,  the  more  need  of  these 
softening  adornments.  They  cost  nothing  but  the 
,  trouble  of  planting  them  in  proper  mode  and  season, 
wherever  you  wish  to  have  them.  I  had  many  more 
ofiered  to  me  than  I  have  space  and  leisure  to  do  jus- 
tice to,  in  return  for  the  little  gifts  of  early  vegetables, 
which  the  moist  soil  of  my  winter  garden  enables  me 
to  distribute  among  my  neighbors  in  all  April. 

But  I  must  leave  my  ornamentals  and  return  to 
the  "  iitiHties." 


128         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

In  clearing  off  tlie  logwood  thicket  on  the 
southern  brow  of  Buena  Vista,  there  remamed  a 
mass  of  small  stuff,  whose  innumerable  stumps, 
though  quick  to  decay,  would  foi'bid  the  use  of  the 
plough  the  first  season.  Not  to  entirely  lose  the 
use  of  the  ground,  I  planted  it  with  asparagus  beans 
directly  after  burning  it  ovei",  leaving  the  stems  of 
suitable  size  for  the  vines  to  run  on.  In  the  more 
open  spaces  Juan,  of  his  own  notion,  made  any  num- 
ber of  calahaza  hills,  and  the  vines  of  this  superior 
tropical  pumpkin  had  completely  overrun  the  slope, 
by  the  time  I  was  ready  to  lay  off  the  Mango  Ave- 
nue. 

I  headed  off  and  turned  aside  all  that  could  be 
saved  of  the  blossoming  calabazas,  but  those  exactly 
in  the  line  of  the  tree  planting  had  to  be  sacrificed. 
On  examining  the  planting  more  critically,  I  came 
to  my  asparagus  beans,  and  was  astonished  to  find 
them  loaded  with  green  clusters,  nearly  ready  for 
the  table.  Before  this,  I  had  wondered  what  could 
be  done  with  the  superabimdance  of  ocra,  tomato, 
egg-plant,  sweet  pepper,  and  a  host  of  minor  relishes, 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  129 

crowding  and  overflowing-  every  foot  of  space  around 
my  tent.  The  coming  crop  of  beans,  green  corn, 
cabbages,  and  sweet  potatoes,  would  be  a  little 
fortune  to  a  New  York  gardener,  but  here  it  seemed 
a  question  whether  I  should  give  them  to  my  neigh- 
bors or  feed  them  to  Burro,  the  donkey. 

This  puzzle  received  a  sudden  and  satisfactory 
solution,  and  that,  too,  in  a  way  which  also  settled  in 
my  favor  the  really  anxious  doubt  whether  I  should 
be  able  to  clear  and  fence  my  twenty  acre  field  in 
time  to  realize  a  crop  in  December. 

Two  of  iny  neighbors  had  promised  to  assist  me  in 

setting  up  the  gate  I  had  constructed  to  open  upon 

the  "  New  Road  "  from  ray  enlarged  Home   Field. 

But  on  the  morning  appointed  neither  of  them  came, 

and  Juan  failed  me  also  until  late  in  the  forenoon. 

It  was  hard  work  for  us  two,  and  the  harder  as  we 

were  both  unpractised  hands,  but  somehow  we  had 

got  the  posts  in,  and  were  tugging  at  the  gate  when 

a  young  man  in  sailor  garb  sauntered  up  the  road 

with  a  basket  on  his  arm. 

He   made   a   stand   at  the  gateway,    whistling   a 
6* 


130         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

jjolka,  for  a  minute  or  two,  with  a  tantalizing  air,  and 
was  about  turning  away  when  I  asked  him,  in  Span- 
ish, to  help  us  adjust  the  gate  on  its  hinges. 

"Don't  understand  that  lingo,"  he  retorted  in 
English,  "  but  I  suppose  you  want  me  to  bear  a 
hand." 

Throwing  down  his  basket  with  the  word,  he  put 
his  shoulder  to  the  gate  and  soon  it  swung  freely  in 
its  place. 

The  stranger  turned  out  to  be  a  British  sailor  late- 
ly wrecked  on  this  coast,  but  with  the  ready  adapt- 
ability of  a  thorough  tar  he  had  sought  and  found 
employment  on  board  the  coasting  sloop  Alice.  He 
was  delighted  to  find  a  vent  for  his  English  tongue 
and  heart,  but  no  more  than  I  was  to  listen  to  the 
outpouring  of  the  flood.  He  volunteered  the  infor- 
mation that  he  was  on  an  independent  cruise  in 
search  of  eggs,  plantains,  fruits,  any  thing  eatable,  in 
short,  for  the  sloop's  crew  in  part,  but  mostly,  he 
said,  on  his  own  account.  The  captain  had  told  him 
that  neither  fruits  nor  vegetables  were  to  be  bought 
about  Palenque,  but  he  chose  to  make  the  attempt, 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  131 

and  he  added  that  "  having  struck  a  straight  road 
and  brought  up  against  a  sound  bit  of  English,  he 
had  ftiitli  in  finding  a  blessed  lot  of  parsnips  and 
potatoes  somewhere  about." 

I  could  not  answer  for  the  parsnij^s  and  potatoes 
luider  six  Aveeks,  but  engaged  to  fill  his  basket  with 
sundry  other  vegetables -as  soon  as  we  had  arranged 
the  fastenings  for  the  gate,  which  by  the  way,  were 
in  hand  while  this  chat  was  going  on. 

That  done,  he  went  home  with  me,  where  the 
basket  was  filled  and  a  water-melon  for  his  captain 
added  to  the  load,  after  he  had  tried  one  on  his  own 
account,  with  an  invitation  to  call  for  more  as  often 
as  the  Alice  came  into  Palenque.  In  return.  Brent — 
that  is  the  name  he  gave  himself— promised  to  bring 
back  on  the  next  trip  some  trifles  I  required  from 
Santo  Domingo  City,  and  on  this  we  parted,  mu- 
tually pleased  with  the  encounter. 

How  Brent  reported  the  affair  to  Captain  Ramirez 
of  the  Ahce,  I  am  unable  to  say,  but  the  result  was  a 
visit  from  him  to  my  place  in  the  evening,  and  a 
proposal  to  buy  at   a  fair    price   all  the   fruits   and 


132  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

vegetables  of  good  class  I  had  to  spare  for  llie  city 
market  of  Santo  Domingo. 

The  winter  season  had  been  more  than  usually  dry, 
and  every  thing  of  the  kind  was  in  demand.  The 
Alice  is  making  about  two  trips  a  week  to  Santo 
Domingo  and  back,  coming  mainly  for  satin  wood 
and  mahogany,  which  Don  Julio  and  some  of  his 
wealthy  friends  are  shipping  to  Europe  in  large 
quantities.  While  the  Alice  is  loading,  Ramirez 
collects  his  little  venture  of  country  commodities  to 
sell  in  the  city  for  his  private  profit.  Hence  his  pro- 
posal to  buy  my  surplus  garden-stuff,  which  came  so 
opportunely  to  my  rehef. 

The  sale  of  this  surplus  seems  a  very  trifling  mat- 
ter, but  I  am  not  rich  enough  to  despise  small  things, 
so  I  gladly  accepted  the  experiment.  Captain  Rami- 
rez on  his  part,  sent  up  a  pair  of  old  china  crates,  and 
in  them,  in  cool  beds  of  fresh  leaves,  Juan,  Anita,  the 
children,  all  hands  of  us,  bestirred  ourselves  to  pack 
the  choicest  fruits  of  the  garden.  Burro  made  an 
odd  figure  with  his  tall  load,  travelling  down  our 
straight  lane  to  the  landing. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  133 

Just  then  my  wealthy  friend,  Don  Juho,  rode  by, 
and  rehied  up  his  fine  horse,  to  compUment  me  on 
my  new  gate.  He  asked  with  his  eyes  tlie  destina- 
tion of  this  unusual  set-out — he  is  by  far  too  courte- 
ous to  put  the  question  in  words. 

I  had  for  a  moment  the  unmanly  cowardice  to  be 
ashamed  of  the  pettiness  of  the  speculation.  A 
second's  thought  restored  my  faltering  manhood, 
and  I  briefly  explained  the  matter  to  Don  Julio. 

"  On  my  word  of  honor,  we  of  the  plains  should 
raise  a  statue  to  you,  my  friend,"  exclaimed  Don 
Julio,  as  he  reined  his  horse  out  of  the  way  of  Burro 
and  his  load.  "  This  fertile  district  ought  to  feed 
the  city  of  Santo  Domingo,  as  well  as  half  the  sugar 
plantations  depending  on  it,  and  the  strifcug  success 
of  the  superior  care  which  you  bestow  on  whatever 
you  cultivate,  may  teach  our  people  in  the  rich  vales 
of  Palenque  how  to  supply  the  city  market  and  live 
in  comfort  on  the  profits." 

"  You  are  the  most  encouraging  of  friends,  Don 
Julio,"  I  answered,  opening  the  gate  for  him  to 
pass  ;  "  but  I  doubt  mucli  whetlier  it   will  be  very 


134  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

profitable  to  raise  vegetables  in  Paleiique,  for  con- 
sumption thirty  miles  distant  at  Santo  Domingo." 

"  I  assm'e  you  that  I  have  no  doubt  about  it — not 
the  shadow  of  a  doubt,"  replied  Don  Julio,  throw- 
ing himself  from  his  horse  and  leaving  his  servant 
in  charge  of  it  outside,  while  he  entered  the  gate 
with  me  for  a  walk  through  the  clearing.  He  was 
astonished  at  the  changed  appearance  of  the  place, 
and  insisted  on  hearing  in  detail  every  item  of  my 
plans. 

I  led  him  directly  up  the  broad  line,  marked  off 
for  the  Mango  Avenue,  to  the  house- site,  explaining 
as  we  went  why,  and  where,  and  how,  I  proposed 
to  carry  on  my  improvements.  The  questions  and 
remarks  of  Don  Julio  were,  and  ever  are,  so  full 
of  intelligent  appreciation  and  instructive  comment, 
that  I  always  feel  clearer  and  stronger  in  my  course 
of  labors  after  one  of  his  visits,  short  as  they  gener- 
ally are. 

But  on  that  day  he  was  disposed  to  stay  out,  and 
see  out,  the  whole  measure  of  my  ambitious  pro- 
jects. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  135 

The  house-site  is  covered  for  the  present  by  a 
thick  carpet  of  calabaza  vines,  ah'eady  gay  with 
great  yellow  blossoms  ;  but  the  front  is  marked  out 
by  a  range  of  millet  running  off  on  each  side  of  the 
open  space  left  bare  for  the  Mango  Avenue. 

On  the  right,  a  four-fold  row  of  stakes  indicated 
the  pathway  to  the  sj)ring  and  the  places  soon  to 
be  occupied  by  ray  grafted  oranges,  which,  however, 
I  did  not  intend  to  move  before  the  end  of  the 
mouth.  The  projected  Orange  Walk  skirts  the  beau- 
tiful group  of  fruit-trees,  giants  of  their  kind,  that 
have  attracted  my  loving  care  from  the  first. 

On  the  left  slope,  but  more  to  the  front,  and 
throwing  their  broad  masses  of  shade  over  the  house- 
site,  is  another  magnificent  grove  of  fruit-trees. 
These  were  buried  in  the  forest  that  had  grown  up 
around  them  since  the  halls  of  Buena  Vista  were 
given  to  the  flames  in  the  negro  insurrection,  when 
the  estate  was  abandoned  by  its  masters. 

One  hesitates  to  describe  the  grandeur  of  these 
superb  trees  to  persons  unacquainted  with  the 
majesty  of  tropical  vegetation.     When  we  cleared 


136  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

the  wilderness  from  around  them,  tliey  towered  so 
for  above  every  tiling  I  had  ever  seen  in  an  orchard, 
that  they  seemed  more  like  the  loftiest  lords  of  the 
forest  than  the  lowlier  fruit-bearing  servants  of 
civilization.  Don  Julio  smiles  at  my  excessive  pride 
in  these  trees,  but  admits  that  their  fruit  is  agreeable 
and  that  they  beautify  the  scene. 

Still  more  to  the  left,  and  straggling  down  to  the 
road,  in  a  j^lcturesque  cluster,  is,  first,  an  immense 
tamarind,  then  two  larger  but  ragged  custard 
apples — which,  however,  the  pruning-knife  and  saw 
are  gradually  reducing  to  foir  proportions — and  close 
upon  them,  is  a  group  of  wild  plums,  in  a  line  with 
the  fence,  and  flanking  the  three  almonds  newly 
planted  on  that  side  of  the  gate. 

Back  of  this  belt  of  high,  out-spreading  trees,  is  a 
longer  but  lower  belt  of  limes,  pomegranates,  guava 
and  coffee  trees.  These  were  only  rescued  from  the 
encroaching  chapparal  in  February,  and  yet  they  are 
abeady  rich  in  blossoms  and  ripening  fruit.  The 
guavas  have  been  bearing  all  the  while,  though  in 
small  quantities,  and   the   plums,   also,   yielded   me 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  137 

more  than  I  and  Jnan's  children  could  possibly  use 
during  March,  but  their  improvement  since  pruning  is 
marvellous.  The  limes  supply  my  refreshing  noon- 
day beverage,  and  bid  fair,  like  the  guavas  and 
pomegranates,  to  give  plenty  of  fruit  the  whole  year 
round. 

The  guava  and  pomegranate  are,  both  of  them, 
as  healthful  as  they  are  palatable,  and  it  is  a  most 
agreeable  addition  to  my  coarse  fare  to  have  these 
refreshing  fruits  and  my  cool  lemonade  always  at 
command  at  the  mid-day  hours  of  indoor  rest. 

This  fringe  of  smaller  trees  and  shrubbery  is  inter- 
mingled with  some  very  aged  coflfee-trees,  and  the 
whole  is  evidently  the  offspring  of  the  original  em- 
bellishments of  Buena  Vista.  I  am  continuing  this 
verdant  border  in  a  broad  hedge-like  sweep  around 
the  brow  of  the  eminence  and  down  the  slope,  until 
it  merges  in  the  "  Fruit  Grove  "  on  the  margin  of  the 
spring.  There  it  will  join  the  Orange  Walk,  that 
is  to  be,  and  complete  a  circle  of  ever-blossoming 
ever-bearing,  fruit-ti'ees,  not  less  than  four  hundred 
yards  in  circuit. 


138  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

Even  now  the  only  considerable  break  in  the  hne 
of  shade  is  on  the  slope  between  what  I  have  named 
the  Spring  Grove  and  the  beginning  of  the  Guava 
Thicket,  and  even  that  fragment  of  open  space  is  par- 
tially filled  by  two  trees  standing  side  by  side,  apart 
from  the  rest,  and  in  superb  contrast  with  each 
other.  One  is  an  old  bread-fruit  tree,  somewhat 
tattered  when  I  first  saw  it,  but  now  tossing 
abroad  its  great  bright  green  leaves  like  banners  of 
pride,  amid  the  deep  glossy  foliage  of  the  tall  guatv 
abana  at  its  side.  The  guanabana  lavished  its  re- 
freshing fruit  of  "  consolidated  lemonade  "  all  through 
February  and  March,  but  it  ceased  bearing  in  Ajiril, 
and  went  mto  an  extravagant  profusion  of  queer  little 
buds  which,  by  courtesy  have  to  be  accepted  as  blos- 
soms, and  which  will  not  ripen  into  fruit  before  mid 
summer. 

The  custard-apple  and  guanabana  fill  the  space  be- 
tween the  caimete — Avhich  abounds  in  February  and 
March — and  the  mango,  which  is  the  rich  and  gen- 
erous gift  of  June  and  July.  The  orange  runs  from 
September  to  May,  but  it  is  not  plentiful  in  the  first 


Life     in     St.    Domingo,  139 

and  last  months  of  its  regular  season.  There  are 
oranges  of  some  kinds  all  the  year,  but  the  Domin- 
ican season  for  the  large,  unequalled  "  sweet  orange" 
is  mainly  included  in  the  seven  months  between  Sep- 
tember and  May.  All  the  other  months  have  their 
own  rich  and  varied  fruits,  and  my  trees  in  April  and 
May  have  been  peculiarly  bounteous  in  custard- 
o.pples  and  guanabanas,  in  addition  to  several  other 
fruits  which  are  continuing  on  from  January,  Feb- 
ruary, and  March,  to  the  present  moment. 

If  I  dwell  too  much  on  the  charms  of  my  tropical 
fruit  groves,  and  on  the  labors  of  love  I  devote  to 
them,  Don  Julio  Perez  should  bear  half  the  censure. 
Whenever  he  breaks  into  Buena  Vista  he  forces  me 
away  from  every  thing  else  to  look  at  and  talk  about 
them.  Two  or  three  times  a  week  he  rides  over  or 
sends  a  servant  with  something  new  to  plant,  which 
perhaps  he  has  obtained  miles  away. 

I  had  noted  in  my  diary  twenty  kinds  of  fruit-bear- 
ing trees  and  shrubs,  already  here  in  maturity  or 
lately  transplanted,  when  on  this,  the  very  last  work- 
ing day  of  the  month,  he  rushed  upon  me  in  the  midst 


140  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

of  a  rainy  afternoon  with  a  donkey  load  of  plantain 
and  banana  roots.  Juan  received  them  in  dismay,  for 
he  had  just  finished  setting  out  a  row  of  pine-apples 
which  he  had  found  running  wild  in  an  abandoned 
cane-field,  and  wanted  to  go  home.  Don  Julio 
would  not  hear  of  it,  until  the  jolautains  were  all  in 
the  gi'ound.  His  own  servant  was  directed  to  take 
a  hoe,  and  every  man  of  us  had  to  bend  to  the  work 
while  the  hght  lasted.  I  fancy  Don  Julio  never 
before  did  so  much  manual  labor  in  one  day  since  he 
was  born,  but  he  held  to  it  bravely  till  the  last 
banana  was  fairly  settled  in  the  bosom  of  mother 
earth,  by  the  fading  twilight.  Then  he  began  to 
rally  me  on  "  wasting  so  much  time  and  trouble  in 
getting  so  much  more  than  enough  of  what  nature 
alone  would  supply  in  sufliciency,  without  vexing  the 
earth  with  extra  cares." 

Yet  these  "  extra  cares  "  have  certainly  more  than 
doubled  the  fruit  yield  of  Buena  Vista,  and  on  every 
arrival  of  the  Alice  from  Santo  Domingo,  Captain 
Ramirez  calls  for  more  than  I  can  supply,  both  of 
fruit  aud  vegetables. 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.         141 

With  a  thankful  heart  I  note,  that  even  the  little  I 
have  done,  and  am  doing,  in  these  small  matters,  has 
relieved  my  mind  of  a  most  anxious  doubt  as  to  the 
feasibility  of  clearing  and  fencing  the  twenty  acre  lot, 
in  season  to  plant  a  crop  for  December, 

These  little  labors  are  paying  for  my  large  clear- 
ing. The  garden  returns  are  not  magnificent.  A 
Russian  Prince  or  still  less,  an  army  contractor 
might  not  regard  it  as  an  important  addition  to  his 
revenues,  but  to  me  it  was  a  precious  step  towards 
an  early,  though  humble  mdependence. 

It  enabled  me  to  hire  two  experienced  native 
woodmen  to  cut  down  the  timber,  and  make  ready 
the  fencing  for  my  new  field,  while  I  went  on  Avith 
the  lighter  labors  of  my  fruit  and  garden  work  :  and 
in  that  too,  it  gave  me  the  means  to  i')aj  a  stout, 
serviceable  man  to  assist  during  the  latter  part  of  the 
month  in  completing  the  planting  and  other  improve- 
ments in  my  "  Home  Lot,"  including  the  garden. 

Thus  I  have  had  three  laborers  for  two-thirds  of 
the  busy  month  of  May,  in  return  for  my  own  in- 
dustry and  "  extra  efforts." 


14:'2  Life     in     St,    Domingo. 

The  "  New  Field"  is  rough  a,ud  bristling  with  the 
stumps  of  the  felled  woodlands,  but  my  Home  Lot  is 
one  wide,  waving  landscape  of  rich-toned  verdure  ; 
and  again  at  the  close  of  this  month,  I  add  the  last 
page  to  my  notes  for  May,  with  devout  thanks  to  the 
All-Giver  for  his  manifold  bounties. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  143 


CHAPTER  VII. 


Rapid  gTOwth  of  vegetation. — No  labor  equal  to  white  labor. — 
What  machineiy  will  do  in  the  tropics. — National  bread  of 
the  Island. — Description  of  the  cassava  and  the  arapa. — 
Indian  fashion  of  baking. — Yuca  and  yams. — Delightful  visit 
from  Delfiuo. — He  discovers  a  newttreasure. — A  spirited  discus- 
sion.— Resolve  to  maintain  my  "  humble  independence." — Del- 
fiao  proposes  an  October  banquet. — Where  to  come  off. — Am 
greatly  surprised. — Visit  to  the  wood-cutters. — Delflno's  anger. 
— An  unliappy  discovery. — How  the  difficulty  is  arranged. — 
Mahogany. — Satiu-woocL — A  new  cottage  resolved  on. — How 
it  was  planned. 

The  rapid  growth  of  vegetation  almost  exceeds  be- 
lief. Twice  in  May,  and  again  in  June,  I  had  to  run 
tlie  donkey  "  weeder"  through  and  through  every 
corn  row.  Ten  or  twelve  days  were  sufficient  to 
cover  the  ground  again  with  a  green  carpet  of  weeds 
and  springing  grass.  My  neighbors  assured  me  that 
one  such  thorough  weeding  was  enough,  but  I  was 


144         LiFK     IN     St.    Domingo. 

not  of  their  opinion ;  I  wanted  the  ^iiole  strength  of 
the  sun  and  soil  for  the  full  development  of  the 
children  of  my  care,  and  they  have  repaid  me  gen- 
erously. 

Those  who  say  the  treasures  of  the  tropics  are 
to  be  best  won  by  the  brute  force  of  ignorant  labor, 
cannot  have  studied  with  sufficient  patience  the 
march  of  invention. 

IntelUgent  laborers ;  men  who  know  how  to  make 
wood  and  iron  perform  the  severest  part,  to  the 
sparing  of  human  sinews ;  men  who  can  work  steam 
in  harness,  these  are  what  is  wanted  here. 

Those,  too,  are  mistaken  who  fancy  that  no  skin 
but  a  black  one  can  cover  the  firm  muscle  and  vigor- 
ous endurance  of  a  perfect  and  hardy  manhood.  The 
most  manly  ^corkers  I  have  seen  in  this  country  are 
tchite  men.  I  will  not  cite  my  well-born  and  wealthy 
fiiend,  Delfino,  because  he  is  not  habitually  a  Avork- 
ing  man,  but  apart  from  him  the  few  who  have  good 
farms  of  their  o\\n  tilling  are  mostly  white  men. 
They  and  they  only  know  how  to  obtain  and  use 
the  best  class  of  labor-saving  machines,  and  they  are 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  145 

too  prudeut  to  trust  any  one  but  themselves  to 
mauage  them,  for  they  know  that  superior  hn- 
plements,  and  the  recklessness  of  brute  force  don't 
work  well  together.  Under  the  warm  sun  of  the 
tropics,  intelligent  working  men  and  machinery  will 
yet  open  the  grandest  field  of  civilization  ever  realized. 
Even  in  such  a  small  matter  as  hoeing  a  corn-field, 
this  is  illustrated.  Without  violent  labor  I  do  as 
much  clearing  in  a  short  forenoon  with  my  little 
donkey  cultivator  as  three  good  field-hands  will  ac- 
complish in  the  whole  day,  and  do  the  work  much 
more  effectually.  Rating  Burro  and  myself  as  equal 
to  a  pair  of  Dominicans,  the  cultivator,  which  neither 
eats,  sulks,  nor  runs  away  (to  which  as  a  class  they 
are  subject),  counts  for  four  common  hands,  which 
are  subject  to  all  those  defects — the  cultivator,  I  re- 
peat, fairly  counts  for  four  laborers  and  asks  no  wages. 
It  must  also  be  remembered  that,  over  and  above  the 
gain  in  time,  the  crops  are  better  in  quality,  and  far 
more  secure  from  extremes  of  rain  and  drought,  for 
the  well  and  deeply  stirred  soil  affords  the  roots  ease 

and  space  to  bury  themselves  out  of  reach  of  danger. 

7 


146  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

Captain  Ramirez  gives  the  best  price  for  my  fruits,  as 
well  as  for  my  melons,  corn,  beans,  ocra,  tomatoes, 
and  vegetables  generally,  not  only  because,  to  use 
his  own  words,  "  there  is  enough  of  them  to  be 
worth  coming  for,  but  on  account  of  tlieir  fine  size 
and  condition,  which  excels  any  thing  to  be  seen  from 
other  fields,  not  even  excepting  those  of  the  fertile 
plains  of  Palenque." 

The  corn  ears  are  now  so  full  and  forward  that  I 
am  cutting  them — and  at  so  near  the  close  of  the 
month  I  may  say  I  have  cut  them,  as  fast  as  the  ker- 
nels were  well  glazed.  The  housewives  of  Santo 
Domingo  prefer  it  at  this  stage  of  rij^eness,  for  mak- 
ing that  most  delicate  of  hoe-cakes,  arapa.  Thus  my 
five  acres  of  corn  have  netted  me,  outside  of  my  own 
labor,  but  including  the  price  of  Burro — I  paid  for 
him  just  sixteen  dollars — a  clear  two  hundred  dollars. 
This  two  hundi-ed  dollars,  minus  the  sixteen,  leaves 
me  sufiicient  to  pay  for  a  milch  cow  and  a  strong 
working  mule,  and  I  have  yet  a  surplus  to  cover  the 
thatching  of  my  new  work-room.  But  as  that  is  not 
yet  half  built,  we  will  leave  it  to  its  own  proper 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  147 

season,  and  turn  back  to  the  national  breads  of  this 
island. 

The  Spanish  conquerors  found  two  excellent  varie- 
ties of  bread  in  great  plenty  among  the  natives  of 
Hayti,  and  the  Indian  names,  as  well  as  the  articles, 
continue  in  popular  use  to  this  day.  One  kind  is  the 
cassava,  which  is  made  of  the  bulbous  root  of  the 
yuca,  ground  and  baked  in  large  thin  cakes ;  the 
other  is  the  arajoa,  which  is  composed  of  young  corn 
mixed  with  an  equal  quantity  of  cocoa-nut  grated 
fresh.  The  whole  is  moistened  to  a  proper  consist- 
ency by  the  milk  of  the  cocoa-nut,  and  then  folded  in 
banana  leaves  and  baked  before  the  fire,  which  is  the 
Indian  fashion  of  bread-baking,  from  snowy  Maine  to 
burning  Yucatan,  before  and  since  the  advent  of  the 
white  race. 

It  is  not  difficult  for  a  farmer  here  to  keep  up  a 
succession  of  corn  and  yuca  crops  during  the  entire 
year,  and  one  man's  labor  might  easily  feed  a  hun- 
dred persons,  not  merely  with  cassava  and  arapa, 
but  with  as  large  and  as  palatable  a  variety  of  fruits, 
grains,  and  vegetables  as  can  be  found,  whether  native 


148  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

or  naturalized,  in  any  one  section  of  the  habitable 
globe. 

Yuca  and  yams  are  the  equivalents  of  the  Xorth- 
ern  potatoes  for  table  use,  and,  under  a  system  of 
thorough  ploughmg,  are  still  more  profitable  crops 
than  corn,  but  they  require  a  much  longer  time  for 
ripening.  My  corn  was  in  market  in  three  months 
from  the  planting,  but  the  yuca  will  require  from  six 
to  eight  months,  and  the  yams  will  not  be  rij^e  under 
nine  or  ten  months. 

Next  to  cotton,  and  better  than  sugar,  taking  one 
year  with  another,  is  a  good  yam  crop,  but  its  enor- 
mous roots  require  deep  ploughing,  such  as  Ameri- 
cans provide  for  their  potatoes  to  expand  in.  But 
that  is  what  no  one  in  this  country  thinks  of,  and, 
consequently,  there  is  no  such  thing  here  as  a  respec- 
table yam  field. 

I  planted  about  sixty  hills  for  my  own  supply,  and 
Juan  says  I  will  have  to  take  them  out  with  a 
"  stump  puller,"  they  will  run  so  deep  in  the  sott 
ground  broken  up  by  the  ox  plough. 

Juan  has  made  a  friendly  acquaintance  with  the 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  149 

plougli  and  cultivator,  but  the  "  Stump  Extractor'''' 
he  cannot  get  within  the  grasp  of  his  comprehension, 
although  in  answer  to  his  anxious  inquiries  I  have 
labored  diligently  to  explain  how  it  manages  to  per- 
suade the  stumps  out  of  the  embraces  of  Mother 
Earth. 

This  month  has  been  brightened  by  a  visit  from 
Delfino.  He  came  down  to  Palenque  to  receive  a 
sugar  mill  and  other  machinery  which  he  had  order- 
ed from  the  United  States.  Besides  his  own  ever- 
welcome  self,  he  brought  back  my  heavy  plough  in 
time  for  me  to  plant  yuca  in  the  ground  from  which 
I  am  cutting  off  the  earliest  corn.  His  cheering 
helpfulness  and  his  judicious,  intelligent  exj)erience 
are  to  my  soul  what  these  June  showers  and  sunshine 
are  to  my  labors — life  and  youth. 

I  cotild  offer  him  a  slightly  improved  table,  for  I 
have  now  chickens,  eggs,  and  a  milch  goat  to  help  out 
our  fare,  but  he  would  not  stop  in-doors  long  enough 
to  take  more  than  a  slice  of  watei'-melon,  he  was  in 
such  a  hurry  to  see  what  I  had  accomplished  in  his 
absence. 


150  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

We  went  first  to  the  house-site,  by  the  new 
Orange  Walk,  then  on  to  the  gate  by  the  Mango 
Avenue,  and  back  through  the  circular  border  of  min- 
gled fruits  to  the  spring  grove  by  the  tent.  The  fre- 
quent afternoon  rains — it  seldom  rains  in  the  forenoon 
at  any  season  of  the  year  in  this  part  of  Santo  Domingo 
— but  the  abundant  evening  showers  had  brought 
out  every  thing  beautifully,  and  all  the  place  wore  its 
brightest  and  freshest  looks. 

The  green  corn  stalks  yet  waved  their  long  leaves 
in  their  places,  for  Captain  Ramirez  had  bargained 
for  them  with  a  stable  keeper  in  Santo  Domingo,  and 
the  time  of  delivery  was  yet  ten  days  ahead.  The 
walks  were  green  with  close  cut  grass,  the  little 
travel  they  had,  barely  marking  a  path  in  the 
centre. 

"  What  an  immensity  of  work  has  been  done  here," 
eaid  Delfino  gazing  up  and  down  the  clearing.  "  You 
have  several  hands  now,  Julio  tells  me." 

"  Only  two,  and  they  are  in  the  woodland  clearing 
my  new  field,"  I  answered.  "  My  garden  and  corn- 
field have  tmuied  out  so  well,  that  I  can  employ  two 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  151 

men  steadily  with  the  proceeds,  but  I  keep  them  at 
cutting  timber  and  making  fence.  I  have  had  a 
third  man  part  of  the  time  in  this  home  lot,  but  main- 
ly to  assist  in  laying  out  the  ground  and  planting  the 
trees. " 

*'  I  should  think  it  fair  work  for  one  man  to  keep 
the  weeds  and  grass  cut  down  so  close  and  even  in 
these  broad  walks.  They  take  up  considerable 
room,"  said  Delfino,  as  he  turned  back  towards  the 
hut. 

"  Burro  does  not  find  the  walks  too  extensive,"  I 
answered,  smiling  at  Delfino's  Dominican  ideas  of 
wasting  land. 

"  Why  surely  you  do  not  allow  the  donkey  to  run 
in  them  among  your  tender  trees?"  he  asked  in 
surprise. 

"  Certainly  not.  I  know  very  well  that  Burro 
would  browse  off  my  young  trees  in  a  day.  There 
he  is,  you  see,  picketed  under  those  large  fruit-trees 
by  the  spring,  and  I  will  show  you  how  he  is  inter- 
ested in  the  breadth  of  the  walks." 

Taking  down  the  strong   bladed  "weed  scythe" 


152  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

which  I  had  hi-ought  -with  me,  I  mowed  the  grass  off 
a  few  yards  of  the  walk,  and  this,  with  half  a  dozen 
blades  of  corn,  made  Burro's  meal. 

Delfino  seized  the  scythe  before  I  could  hang  it  in 
its  place,  poised  and  swayed  it  m  the  idle  air  for  a 
moment,  and  then  made  at  the  grassy  walk  with  such 
a  vigorous  demonstration  that  I  was  soon  obliged  to 
interfere. 

"  There,  that  will  do,  Delfino,"  I  said,  laying  strong 
hands  on  the  scythe,  "  you  have  cut  enough  for  Bur- 
ro's breakfast  and  dinner  to-morrow,  and  he  likes  his 
herb  supper  perfectly  fresh.  Even  a  donkey  prefers 
fresh  food  to  stale." 

"Very  well,  I  give  it  up  now,  but  I  claim  the 
right,  as  your  pupil,  you  know,  to  cut  all  the  grass 
Burro  eats  while  I  am  here.  I  must  learn  how  to 
use  this  admirable  novelty." 

How  strange  to  me  this  term  "novelty,"  for  a 
common  scythe.  Yet  in  this  country  it  is,  in  very 
truth,  something  entirely  new. 

"  In  learning  to  use  it,  my  dear  Delfino,  you  must 
also  leaj-n  how  to  take  care  of  it,  and  keep  it  in  order, 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  153 

or  it  will  soon  be  good  for  nothing.  Delfino  assented. 
and  wo  wont  through  the  whole  process  of  grinding 
and  whetting  it  before  he  would  sit  down  to  supper. 

In  the  morning  I  gave  him  a  practical  lesson  with 
the  scythe,  by  allowing  him  to  mow  the  fringe  of 
grass  and  weeds  along  the  fence.  The  grass  in  all 
the  walks  is  specially  reserved  for  Bm'ro,  and  is 
freshly  cut  bit  by  bit,  for  him  when  he  is  kept  up  for 
work.  By  the  time  I  have  gone  over  them  all,  from 
end  to  end,  in  this  piecemeal  way,  the  grass  has 
started  np  so  well  at  the  place  of  beginning,  that  I 
can  begin  over  again  to  repeat  the  cutting. 

Delfino  came  to  breakfast  much  exhilarated  with  his 
success  in  handling  the  scythe.  He  wonders  much, 
and  so  do  I,  that  this  simple  yet  efficient  implement 
has  never  been  introduced  in  Santo  Domingo. 

"  You  Americans  know  how  to  make  wood  and 
steel  do  three-quarters  of  your  work  in  every  thing, 
and  that  is  the  reason  why  you  are  not  afraid  to  un- 
dertake so  much  of  it,"  said  Delfino.  "  Your  im- 
provements here  are,  in  truth,  miraculous.'' 

"  I  assure  you,  Delfino,  that  any  American  fjirmcr 


154:  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

AYonld  tliiuk  very  lightly  of  this  small  pattern  of  a 
place,  and  none,  but  a  very  poor  one,  like  myself, 
■would  be  contented  with  such  a  limited  showing  for 
a  crop.  I,  however,  am  satisfied  and  grateful,  for, 
with  nothing  but  my  own  hands  and  this  moderate 
outfit  of  farming  implements,  I  believe  myself  in  a  fair 
way  to  achieve  a  real  though  humble  independence — 
thanks  to  you,  my  friend,  and  to  Don  Julio." 

"  Thanks  to  nobody !"  exclaimed  Delfino  quickly. 
"  You  have  your  homestead  secured,  and  enough 
even  now  coming  out  of  the  ground  to  support  you. 
But  let  me  tell  you,  amigo  mio,  that  first  of  all 
things,  you  must  build  a  house.  Your  tent  will  not 
hold  out  this  rainy  season." 

"  It  'inust  do,  Delfino,  this  year,  at  least.  It  ought 
to  be  good  enough  for  me,  when  no  better  tents  are 
the  only  shelter  of  thousands  of  gaUant  men  who 
perhaps  are  less  inured  to  hardship  than  I  am." 

"  That  is  no  reason  why  you — and  they,  too,  for 
that  matter —  should  not  have  houses  when  they  can 
be  had,"  replied  Delfino. 

"  In  my  case,  a  house  cannot  be  had,"  I  answered, 


Life    in     St.    Domingo,  155 

decidedly.  "  My  first  care  is  to  improve  my  fields 
and  create  the  means  for  a  sure  and  steady  support. 
Meanwhile  this  shelter  will  serve  my  purpose." 

"  I  see  you  have  gained  another  step  towards  in- 
dependence. Yoii  are  raising  your  own  breadstufis," 
said  Delfino,  abruptly  turning  the  conversation,  and 
pouncing  itpon  the  hot  arapa  which  Anita  brought 
in  with  the  omelet  and  coffee. 

While  we  were  at  breakfast,  Anita,  my  infallible 
reliance  on  company  occasions,  was  on  duty,  and 
her  fresh  corn  cakes  justified  the  pleasant  pride  she 
manifested  in  them. 

"  Yes,  I  now  raise  my  own  bread  and  corn,"  1 
replied,  "  and  in  due  time  I  hope  to  have  a  regular 
abundance  of  cassava." 

"  I  glanced  at  your  yuca  while  I  was  mowing,  and 
it  seems  uncommonly  forward,"  said  Delfino.  "  Prince 
Plough  and  General  Weeder  have  fairly  buried  Miss 
Yuca  under  their  magnificent  bounties.  She  is  now 
rich,  and  invites  me  to  a  banquet  of  fresh  cassava,  in — 
let  us  reflect — yes,  we  may  say,  in  October,  is  it  not 
so,  tni  amigo  .^" 


15G  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

"  Cevtainly,"  I  ans'^erecl,  laughing.  "  The  first 
cassava  cake  from  my  own  fields,  the  first  pair  of 
chickens  and  the  first  fatling  kid  of  my  own  raising, 
shall  he  kept  to  grace  your  welcome." 

"Thank  you,  and  please  add  to  them  the  first 
arrow-root  custard,  and  the  first  glass  of  ginger-wine 
made  from  your  own  garden  ?  I  stipulate  for  these 
also,"  persisted  Delfino,  with  a  comically  serious  air. 

"  Good !  The  arrow-root  custard  shall  not  be 
wanting ;  neither  shall  the  ginger- wine,  though  I  con- 
fess I  have  not  the  faintest  idea  in  what  way  I  shall 
manufacture  it." 

"  Oh,  if  the  wit  to  make  it  don't  come  to  you  by 
nature — and  it  seems  to  me  the  art  to  do  every  thing 
they  choose  to  do  is  born  with  the  Yankees,"  laughed 
Delfino,  "  our  Julio's  mayoral  will  teach  you  how  to 
make  it.  He  has  an  extraordinary  capacity  for  produ- 
cing our  coimtry  wines — and  a  greater  one  for  drink- 
ing them — but  you  need  not  be  too  exacting  with 
him  about  that  part  of  it,"  he  added,  rising  fi-om  the 
table. 

"  Oh,  you  may  count  on  the  wine  also,  Delfino ;  I 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  157 

will  accomplish  it,"  I  said,  as  I  followed  him  to  the 
outside  of  the  tent. 

"  But  neithei"  the  cassava,  noi'  the  custard,  nor  the 
wine  is  to  be  thought  of  in  any  other  place  than  your 
new  house.  Understand  that  j^erfectly,  amigo  mio,  I 
must  find  you  in  the  new  house,  and  nowhere  else, 
on  my  next  visit,  or  we  shall  have  words  about  it." 

"  My  new  house,  Delfino  !  You  must  be  dream- 
ing. A  new  house  in  October  is,  for  me,  simply  an 
impossibility,  unless,  indeed,  you  have  brought  Alad- 
din's lamj)  in  your  pocket." 

Delfino  lit  his  cigar  and  deigned  no  further  reply. 
Presently  he  came  up  whistling  to  assist  me  in  get- 
ting Burro  in  gear  for  his  and  my  morning  trip  to 
the  woodlands,  and  when  all  was  ready  we  started 
off  merrily  together  for  a  forenoon  of  earnest  work. 

Most  of  my  June  afternoons  were  demanded  at  tlie 
home  lot,  but  thr6e  or  four  hours  of  the  moruhig  had 
to  be  regularly  devoted  to  the  wood-cutters. 

Sometimes  a  fine  tree  for  house  timber  had  to  be 
spared  for  future  use  ;  sometimes  I  had  to  handle  my 
heavy  American    axe    to    cut  a   tree   close  to   the 


158  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

ground,  and  tlieu  nieasm-e  ofi"  the  timber,  to  suit  my 
particular  purpose. 

It  was  always  necessary  to  watcli  over  these  men, 
if  I  wished  to  keep  the  fence  line  clear,  and  have  the 
materials  piled  in  fit  and  accessible  order.  I  have  no 
taste  for  doing  the  same  thing  twice  over,  but  both 
of  my  men  seemed  to  have  a  genius  for  leaving  every 
cutting  in  the  way  of  the  next  day's  work,  so  that 
without  constant  superintendence  one-half  of  their 
time  would  be  lost  in  lifting  and  removing  obstacles 
created  by  their  own  careless  management. 

On  that  morning  we  were  hardly  inside  the  clear- 
ing when  I  saw  an  uneasy,  displeased  look  cross 
the  usually  open  and  sunny  brow  of  my  friend  Del- 
fino. 

With  a  frown,  he  walked  over  and  aroimd  the 
heaps  of  wood,  scanning  the  timber  and  question- 
ing the  men  with  a  closeness  that  surjjrised  me.  I 
was  hauling,  that  is,  I  was  loading  and  driving,  and 
patient  Burro  was  hauling  away,  some  fence-posts 
of  more  than  needful  length  and  solidity,  when 
Delfiiio  (whom  I  had  left  talking  to  the  wood-cut- 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  159 

ters)  suddenly  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  said, 
mockingly : 

"  You  are  a  helpless  innocent,  and  I  must  take  you 
in  charge." 

"I  appreciate  your  kindness,  but  how  long  is  it 
since  it  has  pleased  you  to  exchange  the  character 
of  pupil  for  that  of  guardian  ?"  I  asked  with  some 
surprise. 

"  Only  now,  and  only  in  part,"  he  answered  with 
a  smile.  "You  shall  still  be  my  master  in  the 
realms  of  cultivation,  but  I  must  be  yours  in  the 
forest,  where  timber  is  the  only  harvest." 

"  So  be  it ;  but  tell  me  why  you  are  so  warm  about 
it.  There  is,  of  course,  a  reason  for  this  decided 
resolution." 

"I  want  to  make  a  contract  for  building  you  a 
snug  little  country  cottage,"  said  Delfino,  dashing 
off  at  his  own  good  pleasure  from  the  subject  before 
us.  "I  want  to  build  for  you,  not  a  palace,  but  a 
plain,  comfortable  shelter  at  a  fair  price,  and  I  will 
take  my  pay  in  satin-wood." 

"  Build  cottage  or  palace  as  you  please,  Delfino. 


160         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

It  is  rill  cue  to  me  this  year.  Consult  your  own  taste 
as  to  the  extent  of  the  edifice  and  its  style  of  archi- 
tecture. I  should  be  sorry  to  cripple  your  genius 
"witli  base  conditions.  I  will  allow  you  the  same 
unlimited  charter  to  pay  yourself,  if  you  can  dis- 
cover the  means,  for  I  give  you  notice  that  I  shall 
never  again  attempt  to  oppose  any  proposition  of 
yours,  however  ridiculous  or  impracticable." 

"Let  Burro  alone  for  three  minutes,  and  answer 
me  seriously  one  question/'  said  Delfino,  planting 
himself  before  the  donkey  so  that  I  could  not  turn 
him. 

I  regarded  him  with  increased  surprise  as  he 
went  ou  : 

"  Will  you  give  up  to  me  your  miserable  tent  and 
all  the  satin-wood  in  this  clearing,  if  I  will  have  a 
cottage  built  for  you  equal  to  that  of  Manuel  the 
carpenter,  on  the  Savanna  ?     Yes  or  no  ?" 

"Yes,  with  all  my  heart,  as  to  the  satin-wood. 
But  for  the  miserable  tent — no,  1  cannot  spare  that 
for  the  present,  my  friend." 

"  Enough.     I  accept  the  satin-wood,  and  ofier  my 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  161 

humble  apology  to  the  tent.  I  did  not  apply  the  epi- 
thet '  miserable'  to  that  most  respectable  institution  ; 
on  the  contrary,  I  esteem  it  excessively.  I  may  say 
I  adore  it — in  dry  weather ;  I  intended  merely  to 
signify  that  your  whim  to  live  in  it  through  the  rainy 
season,  is  miserable  enough.  I  hope  that  is  satisfac- 
tory." 

"  Perfectly,  my  dear  Delfino,  except  that  I  don't 
in  the  least  understand  your  meaning  in  all  this  out- 
break about  satin-wood  and  a  cottage." 

"  The  meaning  of  it  all  is,  that  these  fellows  have 
taken  advantage  of  your  inexperience  in  precious 
woods,  to  steal  a  fine  lot  for  themselves.  Here,  for 
examj^le,  is  a  stump  of  satin-wood,"  putting  his  foot 
on  it  as  he  spoke.  "There  are  two  more,  partly 
hidden  by  the  bnish  thrown  over  them,  and  I  am 
confident  that  we  shall  find  a  dozen  more  under  those 
piles  of  trash." 

"  But  where  can  the  wood  be  ?"  I  asked,  in  be- 
wilderment. "I  am  here  almost  every  day,  and  do 
the  most  part  of  the  piling  and  hauling  myself,  and  I 
cannot  imagine  how  these  men  found  an  opportunity 


162         Life    in     St.    Domi 


NG  o 


to  cut  aud  cany  away  any  amount  of  wood  worth 
mentioning." 

"  They  found  time  in  the  afternoons.  They  noticed 
that  you  seldom  came  here  except  in  the  mornings, 
and  they  cut  and  carried  off,  far  enough  to  hide  in 
the  after-part  of  the  day,  every  valuable  piece  they 
had  previously  spied  out." 

"  But  what  can  I  do  about  it  ?  How  can  I  re- 
cover it  ?  I  cannot  begin  my  career  in  this  country 
by  criminal  prosecutions.  You  surely  would  not 
advise  me,  a  stranger,  to  adopt  sudden  and  harsh 
measures  with  these  poor  men,  who,  with  their 
families,  are,  after  all,  my  neighbors  ?" 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Delfino.  "  Leave  Julio  and 
I  to  manage  the  affair.  We  are  both  forest  owners, 
and  have  a  strong  interest  in  the  suppression  of 
wood  thieves.  We  understand  the  class,  and  shall 
know  how  to  bring  these  rascals  to  confession  with- 
out soiling  our  hands  with  those  expensive  nuisances 
— courts  and  prisons." 

"  But,  Delfino,  I  really  cannot  consent  to  your 
taking:    so   much   trouble   on   mv   account !     I   had 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  163 

rather  let  tlie  afiair  pass  in  silence,  and  get  other 
wood-choppers  to  finish  my  work,  than  have  a  stir 
about  it." 

"  There,  stop  talking,  my  dear  innocent,  while  I 
set  yon  right,"  put  in  Delfino  in  his  abrupt,  positive 
way.  "  In  the  first  place,  it  is  not  your  business  but 
mine.  You  have  sold  me  the  wood  for  a  new  cot- 
tage. In  the  second,  you  cannot  get  other  wood- 
cutters as  easily  as  you  fancy ;  and  thirdly,  there  will 
be  no  stir ;  for  we,  that  is,  Julio  and  I,  will  make 
the  rogues  disgorge  under  promise  of  pardon  and 
secrecy.  Nothing  will  be  exacted  of  them  for  this 
oiFence,  if  they  go  on  well  with  their  chopping  and 
sin  no  more." 

I  thanked  Delfino  heartily  for  his  kind  and  ju- 
dicious intervention,  and  promised  to  leave  every 
thing  in  his  hands. 

"  Even  the  new  cottage  ?"  he  said,  archly. 

"  Have  I  not  promised  never  again  to  resist  you  ?" 

"  That  is  most  wisely  resolved,  amigo  ralo^'^  cried 
out  Delfino,  in  great  glee  ;  "  for  in  that,  more  than 
any  thing  else,  I  had  firmly  determined  to  have  my 


164         Life    in     St.    Domingo, 

own  way.    But  now  that  jou  are  in  such  a  promising 
frame  of  mind,  we  will  go  home  to  dinner." 

During  our  noon-tide  rest  we  talked  over  the  cot- 
tage plan,  and  shaped  out  the  course  of  work  until  we 
were  of  nearly  one  mind  at  all  points. 

In  this  unexpected  manner  was  I  decided  to  begin 
building,  months  in  advance  of  my  most  sanguine 
hopes.  But  I  have  not  adopted  Delfino's  plan  of  a 
cottage,  like  that  of  the  rich  carpenter  on  the  prairie. 
His  house  is  not  precisely  what  would  suit  me  to  see 
on  the  site  of  Buena  Vista,  and  yet  it  is  much  too  ex- 
pensive for  me  to  venture  upon  while  my  homestead 
is  not  wholly  paid  for,  and  while  I  am  yet  so  de- 
ficient in  dairy  and  working  stock  for  my  farm.  All 
this  I  had  to  argue  with  Delfino,  point  by  point, 
until  we  gradually  came  to  agree. 

I  conceded  that  it  was  best  to  build  something  in 
the  way  of  shelter  at  once,  and  Delfino  admitted  that 
with  my  "monomania,"  as  he  styled  my  intense 
dread  of  going  beyond  my  means,  it  was  well 
enough  not  to  attempt  any  thing  expensive.  I  con- 
sented to  devote  all  the  satin-wood  of  the  clearing  to 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  165 

Uie  new  cottage,  but  only  after  the  balance  due  Don 
Julio  on  the  homestead  should  be  paid.  I  had 
previously  reserved  three  fine  mahogany  trees,  grow- 
ing near  the  line  of  the  fence,  for  this  purpose,  and 
these,  with  whatever  other  cabinet  woods  we  might 
meet  in  levelling  the  forest,  would,  I  had  jDromised 
myself,  be  more  than  sufiicient  to  wipe  out  the  debt. 
Delfino's  discovery  of  the  satin-wood  had  presented 
speedier  and  more  abundant  means  than  I  had  ven- 
tured to  expect,  but  still  I  would  not  encroach  upon 
them  until  an  vmencumbered  homestead  was  secure. 

This  has  been  my  thought  by  day  and  my  dream 
by  night,  during  years  of  struggle  in  that  busy,  dusty, 
far-off  city  of  my  loathing.  The  dwelling  would  soon 
come  of  itself,  I  felt  sure,  whenever  I  had  so  far  ad- 
vanced that  a  fair  space  for  free  and  willing  labor 
shoxild  be  fully,  firmly,  unquestionably  my  oimc. 

Before  Delfino  returned  home,  the  cottage  was 
finely  under  way.  lie  had  made  our  dishonest  wood- 
cutters give  up  more  than  three  thousand  feet  of 
superior  satin-wood  worth  on  the  spot  fifty  dollars  the 
thousand,  which  they  had  managed  to  convey  to  the 


166  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

vicinity  of  the  "sveigbing  wharf  at  Palenque  Bay,  and 
hid  under  the  brush  and  sand.  More  than  three 
thousand  feet  of  a  somewhat  inferior  character  was 
thrown  by  in  the  heaps  of  fencing  stuff,  in  the  hope, 
probably,  that  I  would  overlook  it  in  my  ignorance 
of  the  appearance  and  value  of  the  precious  woods. 

Don  Julio  bought  it  all,  and  would  gladly  have 
bought  ten  times  as  much  for  freight  to  Europe. 
After  deducting  the  balance  due  him,  he  sent  me  a 
note  stating  that  he  held  one  hundred  and  eighty 
dollars  at  my  order.  One  hundred  and  eighty  dol- 
lars is  a  slight  thing  to  him,  a  trifle  to  be  noted  in 
his  business  books  and  forgotten  in  the  next  hour, 
but  small  as  it  is,  it  will  build  me  a  snug  cottage. 

Insignificant  as  it  may  be,  I  enter  into  it  with  a 
feeliag  that  within  its  shelter  I  am  its  master  and  my 
own — a  sentiment  of  joy  and  independence  not  to  be 
exchanged  for  life  in  a  palace,  if  that  life  and  that 
palace  are  ruled  at  the  will  of  another. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  167 


CHAPTER  Vm. 


My  palenca. — Active  preparations. — Kindness  of  Delfino  and 
Don  Julio. — Manuel,  the  carpenter. — Description  of  my  new 
cottage. — A  sudden  apparition. — Tio  Juanico. — Sanchez,  the 
limeburner. — Juanico's  history. — Engage  him  to  work  for  me. 
— His  mysterious  disappearance. — Is  he  faithless  ? — Abrupt  re- 
turn.— Juanico  wounded. — His  distress. — What  I  do  for  him. — 
Cost  of  building. — The  sea-breeze. — Fourth  of  July,  how  we 
celebrate  it. — The  grand  feast. — Yuca  and  yautiha. — My  corn 
crop. — Abounding  wealth  of  vegetables. 

On  first  entering  npon  my  wild  homestead,  I 
had  not  dreamed  of  attempting  to  build  any  thing  in 
the  shape  of  a  better  dwelling  than  the  old  cabin,  un- 
der eight  or  ten  months  at  least.  I  did  not  dare  hope 
that  my  best  exertions  could  produce  from  this  bit 
of  wilderness  the  means,  even  then,  for  erecting  more 
than  a  rude  and  temporary  shelter.  But  the  whole- 
some, faith-inspiring  visit  of  Delfino  opened  a  brighter 
prospect. 


108  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

On  calculating  cost,  and  weighing  cai'efully  the 
means,  my  own  laboi"  iucludecl,  I  became  of  Delfino's 
opinion,  about  the  middle  of  Jime — an  I  noted  in  my 
record  of  the  month — that  I  could  afford  to  build  a 
snug,  cleanly,  and  durable  '•'' palenca^''  cottage,  which 
would  answer  the  immediate  purpose  of  a  dwelling. 
In  the  event  of  being  able  to  build  a  more  com- 
m.odious  house  on  the  chosen  site  of  Bueua  Yista, 
this  cottage  would  finally  serve  for  the  very  ne- 
cessary &rm  appendage  of  tool-house,  and  work- 
shop. 

The  evening  after  Delfino  came  to  his  conclusion 
about  the  value  of  the  satin-wood  taken  from  the 
new  clearing,  Ave  called  on  Don  Julio  and  all  three 
of  us  went  seriously  and  solemnly  into  the  discussion 
of  the  size,  and  the  corresponding  estimates,  for  the 
new  cottage.  Before  we  slept  it  was  agreed  that  it 
could  be  built  for  one  hundred  dollars,  except  the 
floors  and  carpenter  work. 

The  nest  morning  we  selected  and  measured  off 
the  building  place  on  the  slope,  shaded  by  my  fa- 
vorite Fruit  Grove ;  the  front  looking  up  the  Orange 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.  169 

Walk  to  the  crest  of  Buena  Vista,  and  the  rear  open- 
ing in  the  direction  of  the  spring. 

While  I  went  to  the  "  clearing"  to  look  after  my 
more  than  suspected  wood-choppers,  Delfino  made 
another  visit  to  Don  Julio,  and,  as  I  learned  after- 
wards by  his  success,  asked  and  induced  that  kind 
friend  to  send  over  three  of  his  best  hands,  to  assist 
us  in  "  house  raising." 

The  space  marked  out  was  only  fourteen  by  twen- 
ty-four feet — people  don't  expect  to  build  immensely 
on  a  capital  of  one  hundred  dollars — but  that  allows 
me  two  modest  little  rooms.  We  measured  the 
spaces,  and  with  Juan's  help  dug  the  holes  and  set 
the  upright  posts  ;  allowing  duly  for  doorways  front 
and  rear,  and  a  window  at  each.  end.  The  doors 
and  windows  to  fill  these  places  were  to  be  the  sub- 
ject of  consideration  at  a  future  day.  Sufficient  for 
the  present,  and  our  allotted  one  hundred  dollars, 
were  the  roof  and  walls  of  our  much-discussed,  and 
to  me  deeply  interesting  cottage. 

The  carpenter  from  Savana  Grande  was  brought 
over  to    assist   in   hewing    and    fitting   the   "  plat" 


170  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

timbers  which  surmount  the  upriglits  and  support 
the  rafters.  Manuel,  the  carpenter,  is  a  man  of 
substance,  and  holds  himself  of  no  mean  impor- 
tance in  the  little  prairie  village  of  Savaua  Grande, 
but  Delfino  hurried  him  about  with  as  much  impetu- 
osity as  if  we  Avere  all  engaged  in  erecting  a  royal 
pavillion,  which  must,  let  who  may  suffer,  be  ready 
for  kingly  occupation  at  a  given  moment. 

Manuel  yielded  to  the  delusion  of  a  life  and  death 
urgency,  when  he  saw  gentlemen  like  Don  Julio  and 
Don  Delfino  working  with  me  side  by  side,  handling 
tools,  moving  timber,  and  making  themselves  useful 
generally,  in  the  midst  of  their  own  servants.  Such 
distinguished  countenance,  covered  me  and  my  '•'•  pa- 
lenccC  with  dignity,  and  the  honest  carpenter  allowed 
himself  to  be  driven  about  as  he  had  never  submitted 
to  be  driven  before.  But  then,  my  friends  were  men 
of  distinction,  while  his  ordinary  employers  were 
common  people,  wdio  only  paid  by  the  day. 

Palenca  is  the  old  Indian  name  for  a  peculiar  kind 
of  house,  made  of  rough  lathing,  split  from  small 
branches,  and  closely  woven  between  posts  set  in  the 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  171 

ground.  The  woven  walls  are  plastered  over,  in- 
side and  out,  with  mud  or  mortar,  and  are  as  neat 
as  they  are  cheap.  These  "palencas"  are  covered 
with  a  tall  jjyramid  roof  of  palm  thatching,  or  some- 
times with  the  same  woven  and  plastered  sheeting 
that  composes  the  side-walls,  and  when  the  whole  is 
whitewashed  in  its  own  peculiar  style,  it  has  a  very 
quaint,  picturesque  effect. 

My  new  cottage  was  to  be  a  thatched  palenca,  aud 
as  soon  as  the  j^osts  were  set  and  the  rafters  on,  Juan 
went  into  the  A'illage  on  the  prairie,  to  engage  all  the 
thatchers  and  lathmen  he  could  collect,  in  order  to 
follow  up  the  work  Avith  the  better  speed.  Thatch 
and  thatchers  we  soon  had,  and  the  roof  was  up  and 
finished  ten  days  after  the  raising ;  but  the  lathsplit- 
ters  kept  disappointing  me,  and  the  sides  of  the  pa- 
lenca were  filled  up  with  tedious  slowness. 

It  is  the  busy  time  for  planting  and  hoeing,  and 
the  men  would  not  leave  their  own  home  work  for 
mine  in  the  woods  at  the  ordinary  wages.  They  are 
the  less  willing  to  do  so,  as  in  this  season  the  laborer 
is  likely  to  be  caught  out   in  the  sudden  ai  d  violent 


172         Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

showers  uow  commou  in  the  afternoons.  The  morn- 
ings, however,  are  almost  invariably  fine,  as  I  have 
had  occasion  to  state  in  the  preceding  mouths,  and 
covmting  on  this  agreeable  peculiarity  of  the  climate,  I 
followed  up  my  woodland  work  very  closely  in  the 
forenoons,  and  snatched  the  clear  afternoon  intervals, 
when  they  ofiered,  for  my  garden. 

The  day  that  Delfino  was  busy  with  me  and  my 
two  woodmen  in  selecting  the  laj^rights  for  the  cot- 
tage, a  man  of  singular  apj^earance  silently  dropped 
in  on  us  from  some  by-path.  No  one  seemed  to 
know  or  notice  him,  until  Delfino  looked  up  and  held 
out  his  hand  with  a  warm  smile  of  welcome. 

"  Ah,  my  good  Tio  Juanico,  is  that  you  ?  I  rejoice 
to  see  you  here,"  said  Delfino,  in  his  sunny,  cordial 
way.  "  I  hope  you  are  as  healthy  and  as  happy  as 
ever." 

"  I  am  always  well,  and  at  your  service,  mi  seilor,''^ 
the  man  answered  with  manifest  pleasure.  "  I  heard 
you  were  on  a  visit  at  Don  Julio's,  and  I  went  there 
to  salute  you.  Don  Julio's  people  told  me  you  were 
with  Seiior  Yecino,  and  I  went  to  the  tent,  but  found 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  173 

no  one  at  home.  Then  I  went  to  Jnan's,  and  he  di- 
rected me  here." 

"  You  have  had  a  long  walk,  Tio  Jnanico,"  said 
Delfino,  kindly.      "  Where  do  you  live  now  ?" 

"  I  work  for  Sanchez,  the  lime-burner,  on  the  Nizao 
river ;  but  his  last  kiln  for  the  season  is  made,  and  I 
have  no  wages  now." 

"  Then  you  have  come  in  good  time,  Juanico ; 
the  Seiior  is  looking  for  lathmen  to  get  out  the 
stuif  and  help  build  his  palenca.  Can  you  begin 
work  to-day  ?"  asked  Delfino. 

"  Si  Seiior.     This  moment,  if  you  j^lease." 

"That  is  talking  like  a  man,  my  good  Tio,"  re- 
turned Delfino.  Take  your  knife  and  pull  the  bark 
from  these  house-posts.  When  they  are  done,  you 
may  do  the  same  for  the  rafters,  but  that  will  be  for 
to-morrow." 

At  the  word,  Tio  Juanico  drew  the  long  knife  which 
the  country  people  always  carry  at  their  belts,  and 
applied  himself  to  work  with  an  air  of  steady  and 
composed  satisfaction,  while  I  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment  to    study   this   new   addition    to    my    force. 


174  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

His  dark  Indian  face,  with  its  gentle  mouth  and  sadly 
earnest  eyes,  was  not  uncomely,  and  his  shapely  head, 
with  its  mass  of  jetty  hair,  was  really  noticeable  in  its 
fine  proportions,  but  both  his  back  and  breast  had  a  pe- 
culiar and  ungainly  prominence,  amounting  to  deform- 
ity. Aside  from  this,  he  was  a  muscular,  well- 
limbed  man,  in  the  strength  of  his  age,  and,  as  I  soon 
saw,  as  ready  as  he  was  capable  for  hard  work. 
His  voice  was  strikingly  clear  and  musical,  but  it 
had  the  same  expression  of  patient  sadness  which 
looked  out  of  his  eyes. 

In  the  hurry  of  the  hour  I  thought  no  more  about 
him,  but  when  noon  came,  and  I  was  starting  home 
with  a  load  of  posts  with  Burro,  I  called  Tio  Juanico 
to  come  with  us  and  get  some  dinner.  At  night,  Del- 
fino  suggested  that  our  new  man  should  sleep  near 
him  in  the  old  cabin.  There  was  nothing  there  in 
the  shape  of  bed  or  bedding,  for  Delfino  occupied  the 
hammock,  but  he  cut  for  himself  a  few  branches,  and 
with  an  armful  of  corn-leaves  arranged  a  couch  to  liis 
entire  content.  The  poor  fellow  had  given  away  his 
blanket  to  a  sick  man  at  the  lime-kiln — so  Juan  told 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  175 

us — and  literally  had  little  more  than  he  stood  in,  on 
the  face  of  the  earth.  He  had  formerly  been  in  Del- 
fino's  employ,  but  his  fellow-servants  had  treated  him 
so  unkindly  that  he  could  not  endure  to  stay. 
When  pressed  by  Delfino  to  name  his  persecutors,  he 
declined  doing  so,  choosing  rather  to  leave  his  place 
than  cause  the  dismissal  of  his  inconsiderate  tor- 
mentors. 

So  Juanico  drifted  down  to  the  Nizao,  and  thence 
to  me  at  the  moment  when  Delfino,  having  forced  me 
to  build,  was  on  the  look-out  for  help  to  forward  the 
work.  Delfino's  sketch  of  his  character,  and  Juan's 
account  of  his  kindness  to  his  sick  friend,  prepos- 
sessed me  in  Juanico's  favor,  and  I  was  right  glad 
to  have  him  with  me  while  Delfino  prolonged 
his  visit. 

All  the  next  day  and  the  next  one  after,  Juanico 
worked  quietly  and  faithfully  in  preparing  the  house 
timber.  The  third  was  the  "  raising  day,"  and  he 
did  not  spare  himself  from  daylight  to  dark,  but  at 
night  he  suddenly  disajjpeared.  He  had  asked  me 
■^t  noon,  if  I  should  require  him  after  the  frame  was 


176  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

up,  and  I  answered,  by  engaging  him  for  anothei* 
week  for  the  lath  splitting  and  weaving.  He  then  en- 
treated the  favor  of  an  advance  of  three  days'  wages, 
besides  what  was  already  due,  and  I  gave  it  to  him 
without  hesitation,  for,  even  without  Delfino's  testi- 
mony in  favor  of  his  strict  honesty,  I  would  have 
trusted  his  candid  face  for  a  much  larger  sum. 

In  the  evening  of  the  "raising"  he  was  missing. 
Still  we  thought  Httle  about  his  absence,  but  when  a 
whole  day  passed,  and  Delfino — whom  he  knew  was 
to  return  home  at  that  time — had  to  start  without 
seeing  him,  my  confidence  in  Tio  Juanico  was  slightly 
abated.  This  was  Saturday,  and  as  I  sat  in  the  dark 
of  the  evening,  thinking  of  the  void  which  the  depar- 
ture of  Delfino's  sunny  spirit  leaves  in  my  solitary 
dwelling-place,  gazing  into  the  obscurity  at  the  me- 
teor Sittings  of  the  fire-flies — a  little  lonely,  and  much 
fatigued  with  the  incessant  labors  of  the  week,  Tio 
Juanico  startled  me  by  noiselessly  gUding  along  and 
standing  before  me,  as  mute  as  a  statue,  actually  un- 
seen until  within  a  distance  of  six  feet. 

"I  thought  you  had  left  altogether,  Juanico,"  I 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.         177 

said,  coldly.  "  Your  good  friend,  Don  Delfino,  was 
sra-prised  that  you  were  not  here  when  he  went 
away." 

"  Oh !  Seiior  excuse  me,"  said  Juanico,  humbly. 
"  I  met  with  an  accident.  My  hand  is  lame.  I  can- 
not be  of  any  use  to  you  now,  but  when  my  hand  is 
better,  I  will,  with  your  permission,  come  and  work 
out  what  I  owe  you.  I  will  work  for  you  until  you 
are  satisfied." 

"  All  the  woi'k  I  wish  you  to  do  will  probably  be 
finished  before  your  hand  is  well,"  I  answered,  with 
increased  coldness. 

"Then  I  will  work  for  somebody  else,  Seiior, 
and  bring  you  the  money,  for  I  am  not  lazy,  nor 
dishonest.  It  makes  the  heart  pain  more  than  the 
hand,  to  have  Don  Delfino  and  the  Seiior  think 
badly  of  me." 

He  uttered  this  in  a  low,  imj)loring  tone  that  went 
home  to  my  better  self, 

"What  is  the  matter  with  your  hand,  Juanico?" 
I  asked,  in  a  softened  tone. 

"  I  went  to  see  a  sick  friend  at  Rio  Nizao.     He 

8* 


178  Life    in     St.    Domi 


NGO 


was  dyiug  and  wanted  the  priest,  I  went  for  liim, 
and,  to  be  quick,  I  rode  a  wild  young  horse.  In  re- 
turning, the  horse  started  and  dashed  me  amongst 
the  trees,  and  hurt  my  arm." 

He  stopped  short  with  a  suppressed  sigh  of  pain, 
that  I  fancied  came  indeed  more  from  the  heart  than 
the  hand, 

"Let  me  look  at  your  hand,"  I  said,  turning  into 
the  tent  to  hght  the  lamp.  He  had  it  in  his  bosom, 
and  he  held  it  out  to  me,  supported  in  the  other.  I 
saw  the  wrist  was  sprained  and  badly  swollen.  I 
did  what  I  could  to  relieve  it.  I  bathed  and  band- 
aged it,  after  rubbing  the  whole  arm  Avith  olive 
tar,  the  liniment  of  my  special  faith,  and  then 
contrived  a  sling  to  protect  the  injured  member 
and  leave  the  other  at  liberty. 

While  I  was  busy  with  this  I  happened  to  meet  his 
eye,  and  was  sti'uck  with  its  look  of  subdued  anguish. 
It  was  not  the  expression  of  physical  pain,  it  was  the 
deep  grief  of  the  soul,  written  with  a  painful  dis- 
tinctness, such  as  I  have  rarely  seen  inscribed  on 
any  human  countenance. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  179 

He  dropped  his  eyes  to  the  ground  as  he  met  my 
earnest,  questioning  glance. 

"  Let  us  hope,  Tio  Juanico,  that  your  friend  is 
happier  where  he  is  than  he  could  be  with  us." 

I  uttered  this  common-place  to  start  the  iron  pres- 
sure upon  the  heart  of  the  poor  mourner,  and  force 
him  to  speak,  perhaps  to  weep,  that  the  pent-up  tide 
might  flow  out  and  relieve  him,  but  he  only  bent  his 
head  in  silence. 

"  Was  he  a  near  relation,  Juanico  ?" 

"My  cousin.  I  never  had  brother  or  sister.  Jose 
was  my  only  friend."  He  uttered  the  words  sadly 
and  slowly,  but  almost  firmly,  and  turned  to  leave 
the  tent. 

I  allowed  him  to  escape  into  the  friendly  obscurity 
of  the  evening  outside,  but  there  I  stopped  him  with 
his  adios  on  his  lips. 

"  There  is  a  hammock  for  you,  Juanico,  which  Don 
Delfino  left  on  your  account,  in  the  old  cabin,  and  if 
you  choose  to  remain  with  me  until  your  hand  is 
cured  we  will  see  about  work  afterwards." 

He  stood  a  moment  without  speaking,  and  then 


ISO  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

with  the  one  worcl  gracias — thaliks — he  hastily  en- 
tered the  cabin  as  if  to  busy  himself  in  the  dark. 
Half  an  hour  later  I  went  there  to  offer  him  some 
supper,  but  he  begged  to  be  excused,  and  bidding 
him  good-night  I  left  him  alone  with  his  grief. 

I  am  habitually  an  early  riser,  but  Tio  Juanico  was 
up  before  me,  and  had  prepared  the  coffee  and 
toasted  cassava,  to  hand  me  as  soon  as  I  was  ready 
to  take  it.  I  dressed  his  arm  again  and  found  him 
able  to  slightly  bend  his  fingers,  so  that  I  could 
assure  him  that  no  bone  was  out  of  place.  From 
that  hour  he  seemed  to  have  no  thought  but  how 
best  to  serve  my  interests. 

How  he  managed  to  do  so  much  with  one  hand  I 
cannot  imagine.  I  left  him  plying  the  spUnt  broom 
about  the  tent,  when  I  went  to  the  clearing  for  a  load 
of  lathing,  and  w^hen  I  returned,  somewhat  before 
noon,  he  was  busy  in  the  garden,  helping  one  of  Cap- 
tain Ramirez'  men  to  pack  a  load  of  fruit  and  vegeta- 
bles for  the  city.  The  thatch,  the  cane,  and  the  vine 
cords  for  tying  them,  had  come  in  while  I  was  in  the 
forest,  and  Juanico  had  attended  to  that  also,  Avhile 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  181 

directing  and  assisting  the  thatchers  about  the  roof 
arrangements.  This  work  being  peculiar  to  the 
country,  he  had  managed  it  much  better  than  I  could 
have  done,  for  the  whole  business  was  familiar  to 
liim  and  new  to  me. 

All  the  week  he  watched  faithfully  over  the 
thatchers,  and  but  for  him  they  would  not  have  com- 
pleted the  work  in  the  time  agreed  upon  with  Del- 
fino.  When  not  engaged  with  them,  he  would  take 
a  turn  in  the  field  or  garden  to  note  the  state  of 
the  crop,  and  single  out  what  was  fit  for  market,  and 
have  all  ready  to  deliver  to  Captain  Ramirez  when 
the  Alice  came  in  for  cargo. 

Whatever  Tio  Juanico  was  clearly  and  patiently 
instructed  how  to  do,  was  thereafter  done  in  exact 
time  and  method,  whether  about  the  house  or 
grounds.  I  soon  learned  that  I  had  unwittingly 
secured  a  most  faithful  help  in  this  time  of  need. 
For  without  omitting  a  single  day  my  careful  at- 
tention to  the  wood-cutting,  the  cottage  went  on, 
and  the  garden  was  not  neglected,  under  his  un- 
wearied care. 


182  Life    ix     St.    Domingo. 

The  frame  of  my  ^yalenca  had  occupied  me  a  wcelc, 
getting  it  out  and  setting  it  up,  and  the  roofing- 
in  consumed  another  week. 

Two  men  in  one  day  tied  on  the  rafters,  and  on 
these  rafters  the  lattice  of  reeds  for  the  support  of 
the  palm-leaf  thatching,  and  the  same  men  put  on  the 
thatch  in  three  days  more.  On  Thursday  it  rained, 
and  they  went  home  in  the  afternoon,  leaving  the 
peak  of  the  roof  unfinished. 

These  men  did  not  come  back  to  finish  it  until 
Saturday  afternoon,  when  we  closed  accounts.  They 
Avere  to  do  the  work  and  find  the  tying  vines  for  eight 
dollars,  but,  looking  to  durability,  I  agreed  to  add 
another  dollar,  and  have  the  thatch  put  on  with  extra 
closeness  and  care.  The  palni-1  eaves,  as  agreed  for 
by  Delfiuo,  came  to  a  trifle  less  than  nine  dollars,  and 
the  reeds  to  a  trifle  more  than  one  dollar — ten  dollars 
for  all  the  material — so  the  roof  cost  me  just  nine- 
teen dollars. 

The  north  end  and  a  portion  of  the  west  side 
were  filled  in  with  the  woven  lathing,  without  the 
use  of  a  nail,  almost  as  soon  as  the  roof  was  done, 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  183 

but  there  the  "  siding-up"  stopped  for  some  days.  I 
was  put  off  from  day  to  day  hy  the  men  who  had  uu- 
dei'taken  this  part  of  the  palenca,  but  who  would 
work  a  part  of  one  day,  and  then  be  off  for  the  next 
two,  until  my  patience  was  more  than  exhausted. 

Delfino  had  promised  to  spend  the  ever-glorious 
Fourth  of  July  with  me,  and  I  was  anxious  to  receive 
him  in  the  new  cottage.  The  men  who  had  thatched 
it  were  finally  induced  by  Tio  Juanico  to  go  into  the 
woods  and  assist  in  getting  out  the  lathing,  and  with 
great  exertions  and  some  additional  expense,  three 
sides  of  the  cottage  were  closed  in  by  the  evening  of 
the  third  of  July.  The  south  front  was  still  open, 
and  what  to  do  about  it,  was  the  subject  of  much 
serious  consultation  between  my  old  friend  Juan,  my 
new  man  Juanico,  and  myself. 

My  accommodating  tent  settled  the  whole  difficulty 
at  last.  I  slept  in  it  the  night  of  the  third,  but  I  was 
up  with  the  dawn,  and  by  eight  in  the  morning,  we 
had  removed  the  tent  and  its  belongings  to  the  new 
cottage.  With  very  little  arrangement  it  made  a 
partition  between  the  rooms,  and  a  convenient  front 


184         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

curtain  to  screen  the  privacy  of  my  futi;re  bed- 
chamber. 

On  the  Fourth,  I  was  truly  and  happily  in  a  house 
of  my  own,  and  the  sense  of  space  and  comfort  it 
offered  was  a  positive  luxury,  after  my  months  of 
cramped  quarters  in  my  old  lodging.  Yet,  truth  to 
say,  I  thought  very  little  about  these  mconveniences 
while  I  was  absorbed  in  the  greater  necessity  of  get- 
ting my  ground  and  crops  in  safe  progress. 

The  larger  portion  of  my  palenca  is  still  open  to 
the  south,  but  that  side  is  delightfully  overarched  by 
the  thick  branches  of  my  fruit-trees.  The  welcome 
sea-breeze  plays  freely  through  their  majestic  trunks, 
but  their  green,  never-fading  foliage  protects  the 
room  from  the  sun,  and  even  the  rain,  almost  like  a 
roof. 

It  has  the  free  and  open  freshness  of  an  arbor,  with 
almost  the  security  of  a  close  and  finished  room.  I 
am  adding  a  kind  of  kitchen  at  the  end,  which  it  is 
intended  to  veil  with  a  screen  of  flowering  vines. 
Already  I  am  beginning  to  find  a  httle  time  and  place 
for  the  ornamental. 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  185 

On  the  Fourth,  Julio  and  Delfino  came  together, 
somewhat  later  in  the  clay  than  I  had  expected, 
but  they  were  after  all  m  good  season  and  warmly 
welcomed. 

I  was  proud  to  receive  them  in  my  airy,  rustic 
bower,  and  not  ashamed  of  the  simple  dinner  Anita 
set  before  them.  There  is  always  abundance  of  fine 
fish  in  Palenque  Bay,  and  the  dish  of  the  occasion 
was  a  real  American  chowder,  provided  for  them  ac- 
cording to  an  old  promise,  at  their  own  special  re- 
quest. I  had  hoarded  up  the  last  of  my  Boston 
crackers  and  other  little  matters  from  home  for  my 
first  "  Independence  Day"  in  this  new  land  of  prom- 
ise, and  the  feast  was  all  the  better  relished  for  being 
laid  out  in  the  cool,  delicious  shade  of  my  open- 
fronted  but  tree-embowered  palenca. 

Other  dishes  on  our  genial,  gipsy  board,  were  to 
me  as  acceptable  novelties  as  ray  friends  declared  the 
Yankee  chowder  to  be  to  them.  Tio  Juanico,  Avhose 
hand  and  arm  were  now  re-establisbed  in  sound  ac- 
tivity, had  shot  and  dressed  the  pigeons,  gathered  the 
fruits  and  vegetables,  and  did  many  other  things,  too 


186  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

numerous  to  mention,  towards  helping  forward  the 
day's  great  business,  in  which  of  course  he,  and  the 
wliole  of  Juan's  family  felt  an  immense  personal  in- 
terest. 

Of  course,  tliere  was  an  unlimited  supply  of  what- 
ever the  homestead  produced ;  but  when  the  vegeta- 
bles came  on,  there  was  among  them  an  unexpected 
home  dish  of  the  whitest  and  mealiest  of  potatoes. 
I  knew  we  had  sweet  potatoes  and  yuca  which  I  had 
thought  the  next  best  thing  to  Irish  potatoes,  but 
here  was  the  potato  itself  I  could  not  divine 
whence  it  came,  for  in  making  the  chowder,  I  had 
been  forced  to  substitute  yuca  for  that  indispensable 
vegetable,  and  I  questioned  Juauico  about  it  the  mo- 
ment we  left  the  table.  For  even  Julio  and  Delfino 
did  not  recognize  the  stranger. 

Tio  explained  by  leading  me  to  the  corner  of  the 
yuca  plat,  and  showing  me  a  cluster  of  immense 
leaves,  many  of  them  more  than  a  foot  in  diameter. 
He  called  this  yautiUa.  I  had  found,  growing  among 
the  weeds  when  I  cleared  up  the  old  garden  space,  a 
few  of  these  peculiar  heart-shaped  leaves,  and  asked 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  187 

Juan  what  they  were  ?  He  replied,  witli  inclifFerence, 
that  "  the  roots  were  good  ouongh  to  eat,  when  there 
wei-e  no  plantains,  no  yuca,  and  no  yams."  On  this 
very  dubious  recommendation,  I  concluded  to  give 
the  plants  a  trial,  and  transplanted  them  in  a  double 
row  where  the  hoe  and  weeder  could  attend  to  them 
while  busy  witli  the  corn  I'ows. 

Cultivation  had  so  much  improved  this  neglected 
Indian  yautilia  that  my  friends  did  not  recognize  it, 
in  the  delicate  and  savory  mash  which  was  placed 
before  them  with  the  roasted  fowls.  For  me  I  con- 
sider it  a  most  valuable  discovery. 

I  am  persuaded  that  this  root  is  capable  of  great 
improvement,  and  that  it  will  be  an  exceedingly 
profitable  crop  when  the_  ground  is  naturally  fa- 
vorable, and  where  thorough  ploughing  gives  it  fair 
play. 

My  first  crop  of  corn  is  sold,  and  I  have  planted 
the  ground  with  yuca  and  yautilia,  in  equal  di- 
visions. The  bean  ground,  which  is  too  full  of 
stumps  for  ploughing,  I  am  planting  with  sweet  pota- 
toes, and  in  December  I  shall  probably  be  able  to  say 


188         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

which  of  the  three  is  the  most  desirable  as  a  money 
maker. 

July  is  an  excellent  month  for  planting  all  of  these, 
and  the  whole  of  the  space  left  free  by  taking  away 
the  first  crops  of  corn  and  beans  is  now,  at  the  close 
of  the  month,  green  with  thrifty  successors  of  the 
root  family. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  189 


CHAPTER  IX. 


AUGUST. 


A  drawback  not  altogether  surprising. — A  ■warning  to  new-comers. 
— How  I  paid  for  my  experience. — Plantain  walk. — Different 
varieties  of  bananas. — My  platanal — Industry  of  Juanico. — His 
brilliant  strategy. — Felix  Tisada. — Exhibit  my  improvements. — 
Amazement  of  the  Dominican. — A  proposal. — I  take  advan- 
tage of  it. — Overwork  myself — Awake  feverish  and  in  pain. — 
Anita's  advice. — Simple  remedies. — Juanico  and  Felix  wish  to 
call  a  physician. — Each  knows  a  worthy  doctor. — They  dis- 
agree.— Decide  to  employ  neither. — My  rapid  recovery. — Val- 
uable hints. 

June  and  July  were  exciting  months.  They  were 
perhaps  overcrowded  with  work.  In  fact  I  now  feel 
that  I  swerved  too  often  and  too  widely  from  the 
rule  and  moderation  which  I  had  strictly  carried  into 
all  my  labors  in  the  earlier  months  of  my  residence 
here. 

What  with  gathering  in  my  first  crop  from  the 
Home  Field,  and  preparing  the  ground  and  planting 
the  second  crop,  what  with  clearing  the  New  Field, 


190  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

and  building  my  dear  and  pleasant  palenca  cottage, 
I  have  lived  and  acted  under  the  constant  pressure 
of  an  unwise  eagerness  to  do  more  than  my  means 
and  strength  warranted. 

Yet  after  paying  the  penalty  and  counting  the 
cost,  there  still  remains  a  cheerful  balance  of  satis- 
faction on  my  mind.  When  I  step  out  in  the  bright 
and  fragrant  hour  of  sunrise,  and  see  the  blooming 
TesrJts  of  one  poor  man's  work,  in  the  teeming  fields 
that  speak  of  "something  attempted,  something 
r?o?ie,"  I  rejoice  in  my  labors. 

As  I  look  abroad  and  sum  up  the  bounteous  free- 
dom of  a  country  life,  I  marvel  at  the  patience  vv'ith 
which  I  toiled  in  the  treadmill  routine  of  a  city  exist- 
ence for  so  many  weary  years,  always  keenly  anxious 
about  the  future,  and  never  enjoying  the  calm  certainty 
that  even  the  doubtful  tenure,  by  which  I  worked  for 
daily  bread,  would  hold  good  to  the  year's  end. 

Here  at  least,  every  week  of  well-applied  labor 
gives  fair  j^romise  of  permanent  reward.  Every 
privation  of  the  passing  hour  carries  with  it  the  balm 
of  an  abundant  future  recompense. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  191 

August  is  to  a  new  beginner,  in  some  respects,  u 
more  exacting  month  than  July ;  for  Avhile  it  is 
particularly  and  prominently  the  time  to  set  out  his 
plantain  walk,  as  well  as  to  close  the  planting  of  his 
sweet  potatoes,  yuca  and  yautilia,  there  are  three 
chances  to  one  that  his  plan  of  labor  may  be  broken 
in  upon  by  a  two  or  three  hours'  rain  nearly  every 
afternoon. 

A  new  comer  must  avoid  these  drenching  showers 
as  he  would  an  inevitable  sentence  to  a  week  of 
chills  and  fever.  One  is  almost  sure  to  follow  the 
other,  if  an  viuacclimated  man  is  caught  in  a  heavy 
rain  while  warm  with  Avork,  unless  he  will  take  the 
trouble  to  seek  immediate  shelter,  and  put  on  dry 
clothes.  For  my  own  part,  I  was  too  careless  on 
this  point,  and  had  to  pay  the  price  of  my  negli- 
gence. 

I  have  been  rashly  impatient  to  finish  planting 
the  New  Field  this  month,  besides  setting  out  a 
plantain  walk  around  the  south  sweep  of  the  winter 
garden,  and  more  than  once,  while  occupied  by  the 
double  press  of  clearing  the  New  Field  and  replant- 


192         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

ing  the  Home  Lot,  I  had  been  caught  in  a  sudden 
July  shoAver  without  much  regarding  it.  I  was  too 
intensely  anxious  to  clear  the  way  for  my  projects 
for  August. 

In  addition  to  my  previous  plantings  in  May,  June, 
and  July,  I  have  collected  from  my  neighbors,  and 
set  out  this  month,  more  than  a  hundred  plantains 
and  banana  roots — for  I  could  not  be  content  with 
less  than  the  assurance  of  a  full  and  never-failing  sxij)- 
ply  of  these  precious  tropical  fruits — and  it  was  a 
week's  earnest  labor  for  Juanico  and  myself  to  get 
them  well  in  the  ground. 

Once  fairly  planted,  in  a  proper  manner,  a  plantain 
walk  of  two  hundred  roots  becomes,  with  a  very 
trifling  amount  of  care,  a  standing  fruit  and  vegeta- 
ble suj^ply  for  a  large  family. 

The  real  plantain,  boiled  or  roasted,  serves  in  the 
place  of  bread  in  most  of  the  country  famiUes.  On 
many  plantations  the  hands  only  have  corn  or 
cassava  bread  in  the  morning,  and  plantains  at  noon 
and  night,  and  they  generally  prefer  them  to  any 
other  bread   or  vegetable.     I  cannot,  therefore,  ex- 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  193 

pect  to  secure  native  laborers  unless  I  provide  a  sure 
abundance  of  plantains  in  advance.  There  are  sev- 
eral varieties  of  the  plantain  and  banana,  but  the 
plantain  proper  being  always  eaten  cooked,  may  be 
counted  as  a  vegetable,  while  the  luscious,  melting 
banana  ranks  as  a  fruit.  Both  have  the  merit  of 
being  in  season  aU  the  year.  One  variety,  the  mcm- 
zana  or  "  apple  banana,"  a  larger  and  hardier  fruit 
than  the  delicate  "fig  banana,"  usually  carried  to  the 
North,  owes  its  name  to  the  close  resemblance  in 
taste  to  a  fine  flavored  apple  when  stewed  or  baked. 
When  made  into  pies  or  dumplings,  it  is  not  easy  to 
distinguish  one  from  the  other. 

A  fine  plantain  walk  soon  became  a  cherished 
feature  in  my  homestead  programme,  and  every  step 
towards  it  was  consequently  made  with  careful  fore- 
thought. A  strip  of  rich,  lowland  curved  along  the 
foot  of  the  spring  slope,  beyond  the  moist  ground 
occupied  by  my  winter  garden.  This  rich  belt  of 
low-lying  interval  placed  about  midway  between  the 
house  site  and  the  old  cabin,  and  in  full  view  of  both, 

offers  the  most  suitable  soil  and  the  most  convenient 
9 


194         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

position  for  a  platanal  to  be  found  on  the  home- 
stead, and  from  the  first  I  have  rejoiced  over  it  as  a 
precioiis  advantage. 

Dm-ing  May  I  began  to  prepare  the  ground  fitly, 
to  set  out  the  roots  as  fast  as  I  could  manage  to 
obtain  them.  I  began  by  laying  off  the  platanal  for 
two  hundred  roots,  though  I  had  no  idea  when, 
where,  or  how  I  should  get  so  many,  for  there  is  not 
one  of  my  neighbors  that  has  half  tbe  number — Don 
Julio  excepted — and  very  few  of  them  have  any  to 
spare  on  any  terms.  Nevertheless,  with  a  devout 
trust  in  Providence,  and  some  confidence  in  my  own 
exertions  to  bring  together  the  number  and  the 
varieties,  which  I  consider  necessary  for  a  full  and 
constant  supply  of  the  fruit  for  every  week  of  the 
round  year,  I  measured  ofi"  my  plantain  walk,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  long  by  fifty  feet  ^fide.  This 
is  a  fair  allowance  of  space  for  eight  rows  of  plants, 
twenty -five  in  a  row  and  six  feet  apart. 

"While  waiting  for  the  plantain  roots  to  come  and 
take  possession  of  their  places,  I  put  in  a  crop  of  the 
common  quick-growing  field  bean  of  the  country,  but 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  195 

set  stakes  to  mark  where  the  plantains  and  bananas 
were  to  go,  as  fast  as  I  should  be  able  to  procure 
them. 

Down  the  centre  of  the  Plantain  Walk  runs  a 
broad  aisle,  nine  feet  in  width,  for  the  free  passage  of 
the  donkey  cart,  and  on  each  side  of  this  central  alley 
there  is  now  a  double  row  of  plantains  proper,  one 
hundred  in  all,  and  to  my  eyes  they  make  a  goodly 
and  refreshing  show.  Some  of  those  planted  in  May 
are  now  gayly  waving  their  immense  leaves  of  vivid 
green,  two  yards  long  and  a  yard  wide,  eight  feet 
above  the  soil.  In  three  months  more,  I  may  hope  to 
walk  through  a  charming  arcade  of  green  banners 
the  whole  length  of  my  plantain  walk,  but  it  will  be 
well  nigh  a  year  before  it  can  be  said  to  be  really  in 
bearing. 

After  a  good  young  platanal  begins  to  yield  fruit, 
the  supply  never  flags  in  this  luxuriant  region. 
While  one  fruit-stalk  is  ripening  its  enormous  clus- 
ter, others  spring  beside  it  to  take  its  place  at  an 
early  day ;  and  so  they  keep  up  a  perpetual  succes- 
sion of  young  shoots,  of  older  stems  just  unfolding 


196  Life    in     St,    Domingo. 

their  great  flower-cones  of  deep  purple,  and  of  eight 
or  ten  months  old  bearers,  bending  with  long  clusters 
of  green  and  ripening  fruit.  Each  original  root  be- 
comes the  centre  of  a  cluster  of  plants  in  these  dif- 
ferent stages  of  ripeness,  holding  out  through  all 
seasons,  from  January  to  January,  and  never  faihng 
in  a  lifetime. 

It  required  some  patience  and  a  ti'ifle,  perhaps 
somewhat  more  than  a  trifle,  of  persistent  assurance 
to  collect  a  sufficient  stock  of  plantains  to  conijilete 
my  coveted  walk,  but  in  one  way  and  another  the 
task  was  entirely  accomj^Ushed  by  the  middle  of  Au- 
gust. 

The  j)lantains  proper  were  obtained  with  little  dif- 
ficulty, they  being  more  abundant  in  the  little  gar- 
dens about  Palenque  and  the  Savana  Grande,  than 
bananas.  When  any  of  my  neighbors  came  to  buy, 
or  as  more  frequently  happened,  to  beg,  a  mess  of 
nice  vegetables,  which  they  had  been  too  idle  or  too 
careless  to  raise  for  themselves,  I  gave  them  more 
than  they  expected,  but  always  with  a  Yankee  hint 
that  a  few  plantain  roots  would  be  an  acceptable  re- 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  197 

turn  for  luy  ocra,  chalots,  tomatoes  or  limas,  and  these 
kindly  people  rarely  came  a  second  time  without 
bringing  the  desired  equivalent  in  the  shape  of  a  pair 
of  plantain  roots.  In  this  way,  and  with  the  large 
contribution  of  some  thirty  roots  from  Don  Julio's 
platan al,  I  had  more  than  half  of  the  double  row  of 
plantains  each  side  of  the  central  alley  in  the  ground 
and  already  sending  their  broad,  banner-like  leaves  a 
couple  of  feet  above  it,  by  the  end  of  June.  Outside 
the  plantains  proper,  places  were  marked  for  a  row 
of  the  manzana  or  "  apple"  banana,  and  again  outside 
of  these  runs  a  finishing  row  on  either  hand  of  the 
melting  "  fig,"  which  is  of  a  lower  growth  and  richer 
foliage  than  the  others.  The  plantain  has  the  inside 
place,  because  it  runs  up  taller  and  does  not  rejoice 
in  the  full,  untempered  blaze  of  the  sun  so  much  as 
the  sugary  fig  banana. 

During  all  June,  my  faithful,  unselfish  man  Friday, 
my  poor,  afiectionate  Juanico,  made  several  forays 
into  more  distant  settlements  to  obtain  the  comple- 
ment of  apple  and  fig  bananas  necessary  to  keep  step 
with  the  plantains  in  our  new  Walk.     He  specially 


198  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

celebrated  St.  John's  day  by  walking  over  to  the  town 
of  Bani,  fourteen  miles,  and  there  managed  to  inveigle 
an  old  friend  of  his  into  bringing  over  to  me  a  donkey 
load  of  the  much  desired  banana  roots. 

I  was  delighted  to  receive  Juanico's  friend  FeHx 
and  his  donkey  load  of  fine  sipas,  though  somewhat 
astonished  at  this  promj^t  and  brilliant  success.  I 
was  not  long,  however,  in  discovering  that  Juanico 
had  achieved  this  through  his  florid  descriptions  of 
our  wonderful  deeds  in  the  farming  line.  In  fact,  he 
had  even  offered  to  teach  his  credulous  friend  the 
Yankee  art  and  mystery  of  weeding  corn,  yuca,  and 
other  field  crops  with  a  donkey  cultivator. 

After  Felix  had  assisted  us  to  set  out  the  banana 
roots,  Juanico  put  Burro  to  the  cultivator,  and  run 
through  a  few  rows  of  corn  of  the  last  planting.  The 
invigorating  showers,  and  glowing  sun  of  August  had 
started  a  light  crop  of  weeds,  notwithstanding  the 
thorough  cleaning  it  had  received  in  July,  but  the 
ground  was  mellow  and  as  Burro  walked  along,  this 
green  growth  of  intruders  vanished  with  magical  ce- 
lerity. 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  199 

Felix  was  cli armed  with  the  performance  of  Burro 
and  the  weeding  plough ;  so  much  so,  that  he  begged 
permission  to  harness  his  own  donkey,  and  work  with 
him  at  cleaning  all  the  corn  in  my  home  lot. 

I  graciously  consented,  and  in  one  forenoon  he  did 
well  and  fully,  the  work  usually  assigned  for  a  week's 
labor  to  first  class  native  hands,  but  which  none  of 
them  often  perform. 

This  feat  was  a  great  delight  to  Felix,  and  the 
honest  Bani  farmer  did  not  disguise  the  triumphant 
satisfaction  which  he  promised  himself  in  relating  to 
his  friends  at  home,  that  he  had  learned  to  do  more 
work  with  one  donkey  and  a  little  machine  which  he 
could  carry  about  on  his  shoulder,  than  twelve  of  the 
best  men  in  Bani  could  perform  in  the  same  time. 

Following  up  this  opening  advantage,  Juanico 
wrought  up  his  friend's  enthusiasm  to  a  fever  pitch 
by  showuag  him  the  deep  ploughing,  and  it  culmi- 
nated to  overflowing  at  the  sight  of  the  sweeping 
rapidity  of  scythe  work,  when  he  cut  the  fodder  for 
the  donkey's  night  feed.  Later  in  the  day,  Juanico 
walk-ed  with  him  through  the  planted  avenues,  which 


200         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

are  now  beautifully  carpeted  with  thick  grass,  and 
give  pleasant  access  to  every  part  of  the  homestead, 
and  explained  why  such  pains  had  been  taken  to 
plant  every  thing  in  regular  lines. 

The  Dominican  Avas  charmed  with  all  he  saw,  and 
comprehended  every  thing  very  well,  until  Juanico 
spoke  of  the  grafting  process.  He  was  naturally 
keen,  and  he  understood  at  once  that  ploughs  and 
cultivators  must  have  a  clear  range,  and  that  fruit- 
trees  might  perhaps  pay  for  the  trouble  of  trimming 
and  weeding,  biit  the  absolute  grafting  of  one  variety 
of  fruit  on  other  stocks,  seemed  to  him  most  extra- 
ordinary and  a  very  doubtfid  experiment.  "  If  such 
precious  results  were  so  easily  obtained,  why,"  he 
asked,  "  does  not  all  the  world  have  plenty  of  good 
fruit  ?"  Common  sense  echoes,  "  Why,  indeed  ?" 
Yet  it  is  not  in  Santo  Domingo  alone  that  these  things 
are  treated  as  if  they  were  not. 

To  convince  him,  we  led  the  way  to  my  thriving 
line  of  grafted  oranges,  and  pointed  to  the  still  scar- 
red and  bandaged  trees,  which  he  could  see,  by  the 
superior   delicacy  of  the  leaves,  were  really  sweet 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  201 

orange  scions,  grafted  on  the  hardy  stocks  of  the 
sour  native  fruit.  After  much  examination  and  an  end- 
less circle  of  questions,  always  beginning  and  ending 
with — "  If  this  is  really  possible,  why  cannot  I,  Felix 
Tisada,  also  learn  to  graft  fruit-trees  ?"  he  arrived 
at  a  firm  conclusion  that  he  had  a  genius  for  the 
American  system  of  cultivation,  and  proposed  to  be- 
come my  disciple,  something  after  the  fashion  of  my 
dear  and  noble  friend  Delfino.  I  accepted  the  offer 
to  a  certain  degree,  but  I  could  not  but  feel  the  vast 
difference  between  htm  and  Felix  Tisada.  One  is  an 
instructed  gentleman,  with  a  soul  as  bright  as  the 
sun  and  as  open  as  the  day,  with  a  spirit  that  lighted 
up  the  hardest  toil ;  while  the  other  is  simply  an  un- 
lettered laborer  of  Bani,  used  to  work,  and  willmg  to 
do  it,  but  who  can  bring  no  luxury  of  companionship 
to  enliven  labor  or  rest. 

Yet  the  proposition  of  Felix  was  not  one  to  be 
lightly  rejected  by  a  man  in  my  circumstances.  He 
wanted  to  learn  the  use  of  the  heavy  ox-plough,  and 
also  to  acquire  the  art  of  grafting,  and  said  he  was 

ready  to  accommodate  himself  to  any  terms  I  chose 
9* 


202         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

to  name  that  M^oxild  seciire  these  objects.  Juanico 
delivered  me  tlie  message  after  the  two  had  talked 
the  matter  -well  over  between  themselves,  and  he 
manifested  so  much  interest  in  it,  that  I  accepted  the 
bargain  almost  exactly  as  he  stated  it.  Felix  was  to 
come  over  about  the  middle  of  August,  with  his  own 
yoke  of  oxen,  and  plough  up  all  the  land  I  might  have 
ready  for  the  purpose,  and  assist  me  in  planting  the 
field  A\-ith  corn  and  potatoes.  I  agreed,  on  my  part, 
that  Juanico  and  the  light  plough  should  be  turned 
into  his  cotton  field  for  as  many  days  in  September 
as  he  should  work  in  my  field  in  August — that  is,  in 
planting  it,  for  the  ploughing  work  counted  for 
nothing,  as  it  was  done  in  the  way  of  instruction. 

Felix  was  eager  to  buy  or  borrow  the  heavy  ox- 
plough  for  a  few  weeks,  to  break  up  the  ground  for  a 
fall  planting  of  corn,  generally  the  most  profitable 
corn  crop  of  the  year,  but  I  could  not  obUge  him  in 
that  point. 

The  plough  was  already  sold,  and  at  a  liberal  price, 
to  Don  Julio,  and  I  had  only  the  right  to  use  it  for 
my  own  work  during  the  current  year.    As  yet,  there 


Life    in     St.    Domingo,         203 

is  no  other  ox-plough  in  this  region,  though  I  have 
ordered  out  three  large  ploughs,  of  the  very  best 
construction,  for  myself  and  friends,  but  we  cannot 
expect  to  receive  them  before  November,  and  by  that 
time  the  dry  season  will  be  too  close  upon  us  for  any 
more  ploughing  and  planting  this  winter.  As  for  the 
grafting  lessons,  I  was  dubious  about  their  successful 
outcome  at  that  season ;  but  to  teach  him  the  form 
of  operation,  I  willingly  devoted  an  hour  in  the  after- 
noon in  setting  a  dozen  slips  from  a  large,  sweet- 
fruited  guava,  on  a  handsome  tree,  very  prettily  situ- 
ated near  the  cottage,  but  which  bears  a  small,  sour 
fruit.  If  any  of  them  should  take^  it  would  be  a  most 
encouraging  precedent ;  if  not,  the  loss  was  nothing 
to  alarm  me. 

This  grafting  dates  back  to  the  last  week  in  June, 
when  Felix  came  with  his  first  load  of  banana-roots ; 
and  in  the  press  of  our  July  planting  and  building, 
the  guava  grafts  were  entirely  neglected  by  me,  al- 
though Juanico,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  had  kept  an 
eye  of  attentive  curiosity  on  the  results.  He  had  ex- 
acted from  Felix  the  promise  to  bring  another  load 


204         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

of  bananas  when  he  returned  to  us  to  practise  with 
the  ox-plough,  and  my  honest  Juanico  felt  himself,  as 
it  were,  pledged  to  produce  the  guava  graftings  in  a 
state  of  healthy  growth.  I  had  given  no  such  assur- 
ance, for  I  much  doubted  the  possibility  of  scions 
taking  in  the  full  tide  of  sap,  and  fruit-bearing ;  but 
nothing  seems  impossible  in  this  generous  climate. 
Seven — more  than  half  of  the  scions — appear  to  have 
"  set."  At  any  rate  they  are  green  with  new  leaves, 
to  the  imbounded  admiration  of  Fehx,  and  not  a 
Uttle,  I  must  confess  it,  to  my  own  astonishment. 

I  had  but  very  moderate  confidence  in  the  punctu- 
ality of  Felix,  and  was  occupied  with  my  plantain 
walk,  hoeing  up  the  weedy  grass,  and  heaping  it  in 
little  hills  between  but  not  too  close  upon  the  plants, 
thinking  over  the  feasibility  of  making  an  excursion 
to  Bani  in  search  of  roots  enough  to  fill  out  my  rows, 
for  I  had  exhausted  the  spare  hijos — young  sprouts — 
of  my  neighbors,  when  my  reflections  were  arrested 
by  the  clamorous  driving  of  oxen  on  our  new  road. 
They  came  near,  stopped  at  the  gate,  passed  through 
it.    Could  it,  perchance,  be  Felix,  after  all  ?     Has  he 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  205 

really  committed  the  rare  and  most  un-Dominican  act 
of  keeping  his  engagement  to  the  day  and  letter  ?  I 
stepped  forward  to  assure  myself  of  the  truth,  and, 
sure  enough,  I  met  him  tearing  down  the  slope, 
mounted  on  one  ox  and  leading  another  by  a  long 
rope  attached  to  the  nostril. 

"  Aqid  estarnos  Seilor.''''  "  Here  we  are,  I  and  the 
oxen,  and  the  bananas,"  shouted  Felix,  on  catching 
sight  of  me — "  Here  we  are,  at  your  orders.  Your 
friends  and  servants — all  three  of  us,"  he  added, 
sliding  down  from  his  extraordinary  perch  on,  or 
among,  a  huge  pile  of  roots,  and  aifectiouately  patting 
the  patient  animal  as  he  spoke. 

An  American  would  have  scouted  the  idea  of 
piling  such  a  quantity  of  stuff  on  the  backs  of  a  pair 
of  oxen,  and  then  riding  and  driving  them  fourteen 
miles  at  a  quick  stej?,  that  is  quick  for  horned  steeds, 
but  nothing  of  the  kind  daunts  a  genuine  child  of 
this  island. 

While  I  was  uttering  a  few  words  of  welcome, 
Felix  unloosed  divers  cords,  and  down  dropped  the 
capacious  folds   of  native  matting,  and  with   them 


200  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

rolled  out  a  welcome  supply  of  bananas,  sufficient  to 
complete  my  plantain  walk,  and  have  a  few  roots  of 
"  figs"  for  Anita,  who  had  eai'nestly  bespoke  the  first 
sprouts  I  could  sj^are,  for  her  cottage  door.  In  the 
afternoon  we  had  several  passing  showers,  but  I  was 
in  such  haste  to  plant  ray  se2)as  that  in  spite  of  the 
wet  I  worked  on,  and  Juanico  and  Felix  assisted 
until  the  last  one  was  set,  and  my  Plantam  Walk 
completely  filled  out.  I  went  to  sleep  that  night 
with  the  comforting  conviction  that  my  homestead 
now  contains  an  ample  and  established  orchard  of 
the  most  necessary  and  valuable  of  tropical  fruits. 

In  the  morning  I  felt  heavy  and  feverish  for  the 
first  time  since  my  arrival  in  Santo  Domingo.  I  had 
no  taste  for  my  breakfast  or  ray  work,  and  I  ached 
to  return  to  my  cot  for  another  hour's  rest,  but  Felix 
aud  his  oxen  were  waiting  on  me,  and  I  forced  my- 
self to  the  task  of  seeing  them  well  started  with  the 
plougli.  Juanico,  Avho  had  already  learned  something 
of  this  kind  of  work,  entreated  me  to  return  home, 
and  leave  him  and  Felix  to  go  on  with  the  plough- 
ing ;  but  the  effort  and  excitement  of  teaching  such  a 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.  207 

willing  and  anxious  pupil  as  Felix,  kept  me  up  an 
lioui'  or  two  longer.  At  last  a  dizzy  headache  and  a 
succession  of  slight  chills  warned  me  that  I  could  no 
longer  resist  the  approaching  fever. 

Long  before  my  regular  hour  of  eleven,  I  was 
obliged  to  resign  the  charge  of  the  plough  in  flivor  of 
Juanico,  and  seek  the  shelter  of  the  palenca.  I  met 
Anita  at  the  spring,  getting  water,  and  asked  her  to 
give  me  a  drink.  She  looked  up  in  surprise,  and  said 
in  tones  of  concern,  that  I  had  "  the  strangers' 
fever."  "  "Why  do  you  think  so,  Anita  ?"  I  feebly  in- 
quired. She  replied  that  she  saw  it  in  my  heavy  eyes 
and  "yellow  paleness."  There  was  a  disagreeable  ring 
in  the  words  "  strangers'  fever  and  "  yellow  pale- 
ness," to  ears  that,  from  childhood  up,  have  been 
filled  with  dreadful  stories  of  the  havoc  of  tropical 
fevers.  Many  people  at  the  North  fancy  that  half 
the  families  tiiat  emigrate  to  the  tropics  are  certain 
to  die  off  directly  with  yellow  fever,  or  black  vomit, 
or  some  other  terrible  malady  ;  and,  notwithstanding 
that  I  personally  knew  scores  of  emigrants  who  had 
passed  the  ordeal  of  a  change  of  climate  without  a 


208  Life     in     St.    Domingo, 

day's  serious  illness,  these  old  ideas  weighed  heavily 
on  me. 

A  depressing  return  of  my  youthful  horror  of 
yelloAv  fever  swept  across  me,  as  I  laid  my  throbbing 
head  on  the  pillow,  yet  I  thought  of  medicine  with  a 
loathing  distrust.  The  nearest  doctor  was  four 
miles  off,  somewhere  on  the  River  Xizao,  and  I  was 
not  inclined  to  send  for  him,  any  way.  I  have  no 
passion  for  swallowing  apothecaries'  shops,  either  in 
hap-hazard  experiments  or  according  to  learned 
rules.  So  I  told  Anita  she  must  ciire  me  by  good 
nursing,  and  asked  her  to  make  me  a  cooling  drink  of 
ripe  limes.  She,  however,  insisted  on  making  me, 
first  of  all,  a  warm  "  tisana''  of  greoi  limes,  to  drive 
out  the  chills. 

This  is  the  simple,  and  generally  successful, 
remedy  of  the  country.  These  people  never  think  of 
calling  a  physician  for  a  common  fever.  Half  a  dozen 
green  limes,  not  fully  gro'mi,  are  cut  up  in  a  pitcher 
of  boiling  water,  Avhich  is  well  covered  until  it  is  so 
far  cooled  that  the  patient  can  drink  it  ■\^ithout  in- 
convenience.    It  is  sweetened  to  one's  taste,  and  I 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.         209 

found  it  extremely  acceptable,  even  hot,  at  least 
while  the  creeping  chills  had  possession  of  my  aching 
frame.  As  they  passed  off  and  a  scorching  fever 
took  their  place,  the  cooled  tisana  was,  if  possible, 
still  more  agreeable  to  my  parched  tongue,  and  I 
drank  of  it  without  stint. 

Felix  and  Juanico  came  in  to  see  me  at  noon,  and 
both  of  them  expressed  a  great  desire  to  have  a  doc- 
tor called.  The  remedios  of  the  country  were  well 
enough  for  the  poor  natives,  they  said,  but  not  for 
me,  a  stranger  accustomed  to  precious  medicines,  to 
medicines  worth  their  weight  in  gold.  For  me, 
mere  tisanas  were  declared  to  be  altogether  too 
simple,  and,  of  course,  were  out  of  question.  They 
considered  that  nothing  short  of  a  regular  doctor 
had  a  right  to  cure  me.  On  a  doctor,  therefore, 
they  were  fully  agreed,  but  on  the  doctor  to  he  in- 
trusted with  my  case,  there  arose  a  formidable  differ- 
ence of  opinion.  Juanico  had  unlimited  faith  in  a 
certain  somebody,  whom  he  declared  to  be  an  "  angel 
of  science" — the  Dominicans  are  rich  in  splendid 
phrases — but    Felix  said  this  medical  wonder    was 


210  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

terril)ly  unlucky  with  his  patients,  and  wanted  to 
st:u-t  off,  to  I  know  not  what  distant  region,  for 
another  physician  who  was  a  "  well  of  experience." 
Juanico  stoutly  objected  to  this  "Well  of  Experi- 
ence" as  much  more  unlucky  with  his  patients  than 
his  own  "  Angel  of  Science." 

Between  them  I  determined  not  to  try  either,  and 
I  ended  the  discussion  by  telling  them  both  that  I 
would  trust  to  tisanas  and  cold  water  for  that  day 
and  the  next,  and  after  that  we  would  think  about 
a  doctor,  if  by  that  time  the  fever  did  not  abate. 

That  night  was  indeed  a  night  of  distress.  Rack- 
ing pains  in  my  head,  back,  and  limbs,  banished  sleep, 
and  I  tossed  in  restless  anguish  through  the  long, 
long  night,  hopeless  of  rest  and  praying  for  daylight. 
Anita  went  home  at  dark,  leaving  me  a  pitcher  of 
fresh  lemonade  within  reach,  and  charging  Juanico 
to  keep  bathing  my  head  with  cool  water.  It  was 
not  necessary  to  charge  Juanico  to  take  good 
care  of  me,  for  he  was  not  Avilling  to  leave  me  for  a 
moment.  I  begged  him  to  go  to  his  own  cot  in  the 
old  cabin,  where  Felix  had  slung  his  hammock,  and 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  211 

get  his  usual  sleep,  iu  order  to  assist  at  the  plough  in 
the  morning,  but  he  plead  so  earnestly  for  the  priv- 
ilege of  bringing  in  his  blanket  and  lying  down  at  the 
foot  of  my  bed,  that  it  was  easier  to  submit  to  his 
wishes  than  to  resist  his  affectionate  importunity. 

In  the  gray  of  the  morning  I  fell  asleep  for  an 
hour,  and  when  I  opened  my  eyes  I  saw  Juanico 
staggering  up  the  path  under  a  back-load  of  cocoa- 
nuts.  He  had  slipped  away  before  daylight  and 
walked  over  to  Don  Julio's  "  for  advice  and  water 
cocoa-nuts  to  cure  my  fever."  He  came  back  with 
both.  Don  Julio  was  not  at  home,  but  his  experi- 
enced Mayoral  sent  me  his  "  advice"  to  persevere 
with  tisanas  of  lime  and  sour  orange,  while  the  loarm 
chills  were  upon  me  as  well  as  during  the  copious 
perspirations,  which  he  said  I  must  expect,  for  three 
days  at  least,  close  upon  the  fever  that  would  follow 
the  chills.  In  the  quiet  intervals  I  was  to  be  freely 
indulged  in  the  cool,  transparent  water  of  green 
cocoa-nuts.  If  I  felt  any  desire  to  eat  in  these  inter- 
vals, which  it  happened  I  did  not,  then  I  might  be 
allowed  the  water  of  a  rijie  cocoa-nut,  as  a  nourish- 


212  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

ment.  This  was  all  the  medical  advice  I  recei^'ed, 
and  these  agreeable  beverages  were  literally  and 
strictly  all  the  medicine  I  have  taken  for  my  accli- 
mating fever.  The  yellow  fever  is  unknown  in  this 
section  of  the  Island  of  Santo  Domingo  and  the 
"strangers'  fever"  is,  to  my  mind,  simply  a  milder 
type  of  the  too  common  "  chills  and  fever  "  of  the 
Western  States  of  the  Union. 

Judging  from  my  own  experience,  and  from  the 
statements  of  my  friends,  I  should  say  that  the  accli- 
mating "  ague  and  fever  "  of  the  Upper  JVIississippi, 
takes  a  much  longer  hold  and  is  in  every  way  more 
malignant  in  character  than  the  Dominican  calentura. 
That  seldom  runs  more  than  nine  days,  and  frequently 
not  more  than  three,  if  the  patient  turns  at  once 
to  a  cooling  tisana,  and  will  abstain  from  gross  food 
during  the  intervals  between  the  fever  chills.  The 
first  day  or  two  of  dizzy  headache,  and  pains  in  the 
back  and  limbs — the  premonitory  symptoms — are  so 
much  alike  in  almost  every  case,  that  a  new  settler 
can  understand  at  once  the  nature  of  the  attack,  and 
can  treat  it  for  himself  with  confidence. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  213 

I  had  three  very  sick  days,  but  after  they  had 
passed  I  walked  out  every  morning  to  see  how  Felix 
and  Juanico  were  succeeding  with  the  plough. 
Taking  an  hour  under  the  nearest  shade-tree,  I  would 
creep  hack  to  my  diet  broths,  and  rest  on  my  cot 
until  the  afternoon.  I  lost  but  three  consecutive 
days  in  which  I  was  confined  to  the  cottage  ;  after 
them,  on  alternate  days,  I  had  three  afternoons  of 
slight  chills,  with  decreasing  fever  on  each  occasion, 
but  with  some  headaches  and  a  general  sense  of  de- 
bility throughout  most  of  the  day.  Between  these 
sick  days,  there  regularly  intervened  days  of  com- 
parative health,  as  in  the  chills  and  fever  of  the  West, 
and  in  those  days  I  went  out  for  a  longer  stay  in  the 
field,  and  inhaled,  with  unspeakable  zest,  the  cool, 
invigorating  freshness  of  the  morning. 

I  felt  able  and  anxious  to  lend  a  hand  to  the  farm- 
ing work  in  those  mornmgs,  but  I  refrained,  as  my 
experienced  friend  Don  Julio,  who  came  over 
every  day  to  see  me,  after  he  returned  from  the 
city,  impressed  upon  me  the  prudence  of  care- 
fully nursing  back   my  lost    strengtli,  instead  of  ex- 


214  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

hausliug  the  little  stock  on  hand  by  premature  ex- 
ertions. 

In  nine  days  I  was  very  nearly  myself  again ;  but, 
in  the  mean  time,  August  had  almost  slipped  away, 
and  much  of  my  August  j^lantmg  will  run  mto 
September.  Felix  staid  with  me  a  fortnight,  and  he 
and  Juanico  have  done  far  better  than  I  could  have 
hoped  from  such  unpractised  hands.  The  corn  they 
planted  already  stands  out  in  green,  Avell  defined 
rows,  with  plenty  of  squashes  and  calabasitas  sj^riug- 
ing  upbetvreen  them.  The  potatoes  look  thrifty  and 
promising  for  the  December  and  January  market. 
My  plantain  walk  has  started  beautifully,  and  the 
homestead  has  not  sufiered  during  my  illness,  every 
thing  considered.  The  bounties  and  blessings  of 
August  have  been  manifold,  and  even  its  sick-bed 
lessons  are  precious  in  their  teachings. 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.         215 


CHAPTER  X. 

SEPTEMBER. 

Famous  yield  of  sweet  potatoes. — Contract  with  Captain  Ramirez. 
— The  Captain  becomes  alarmed. — His  fears  quieted. — Anita's 
transactions  with  the  natives. — Cocoa-nut  grove. — Its  impor- 
tance.— Am  in  great  perplexity. — Juanico  plays  the  diplomat. — 
Felix  comes  to  my  relief. — An  amusing  scene. — A  friendly  con- 
test.— Sale  of  the  "  cultivator." — What  Fehx  undertakes. — How 
Felix  is  swindled. — My  despair. — A  fresh  comer  in  the  scene. — 
Arrival  of  Rosa  Dalmeyda. — Her  mission. — How  we  arrange 
matters. — Success  at  last.  ' 

Three  days  of  acclimating  fever,  and  six  move  of 
forced  idleness  for  the  restoration  of  my  strength, 
broke  somewhat  into  my  plans  and  labors  for  Au- 
gust, but  this  bright  and  bountiful  September  has  set 
things  square  again. 

The  week  of  slow  recovery  was  favorable  to  a 
thoughtful  review  of  what  liad  been  done,  and  what 
left  undone,  in  the  past  seven  months  of  active  labor, 


210  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

and  this  led  to  one  or  two  material  changes  in  the 
arrangements  for  the  future  months  of  the  year. 

In  the  Home  Field,  containing  rather  more  than 
eight  acres  within  the  new  fence,  I  have  now  in  full 
bearing  nearly  every  tropical  fruit,  and  all  the  vege- 
tables known  in  northern  markets,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  peas  and  Irish  potatoes  ;  besides  many  kinds 
that  are  very  scarce,  if  not  unknown,  in  Europe  and 
the  United  States. 

By  selecting  a  piece  of  wet  ground  below  the 
spring,  and  planting  it  from  seedling  beds  made  in 
January,  and  watered  during  February  and  a  part 
of  March,  I  had  secured  such  a  large  and  varied  sup- 
ply of  vegetables  for  the  dry  season,  that  the  sale  of 
my  surplus  abundance — strictly  the  produce  of  my 
own  labor — has  been  more  tlian  sufficient  to  pay  the 
hke  of  three  men  in  clearing  and  fencing  the  new 
field  of  twenty  acres.  The  satin-wood,  campeche^  and 
mahogany  cut  from  this  new  field  have  completely 
paid  for  my  homestead,  besides  covering  the  expense 
of  closing  in  and  roofing  over  my  cottage. 

My  half  an  acre,  more  or  less,  of  moist,  fertile  soil ; 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  217 

my  Wintei-  Garden,  as  I  love  to  call  it,  because  it 
is  my  reliance  for  food  and  profit  in  the  dry  season 
between  the  first  of  January  and  the  middle  of 
March ;  has  cost  me  about  as  much  hard  work  to  get 
it  well  under  way  as  the  other  four  and  a  half  or  five 
acres  planted  with  corn,  beans,  yuca,  and  sweet  po- 
tatoes. But  then  it  has  returned  me  profits  in  pro- 
portion. Indeed,  the  sum  total  of  results  has  been 
a  delightful  astonishment  to  me,  and  would  be  in- 
credible to  a  farmer  accustomed  to  the  dead  loss  of 
the  frosty  season  in  cold  climates. 

The  yield  of  sweet  potatoes  was  so  abundant,  in 
consequence  of  ploughing  the  ground  previous  to 
planting  instead  of  scratching  it  over  with  the  hoe, 
and  of  my  regularly  oloaning  them  twice  with  the 
donkey  cultivator  instead  of  once  half-scraping  away 
the  weeds  here  and  there,  that  the  whole  neighbor- 
hood has  crowded  upon  me  in  mass  to  wonder  at  it. 
It  is  not  only  the  most  plentiful  crop,  and  of  the  lar- 
gest potatoes  ever  seen,  but  it  is  a  month  earlier  than 
any  of  theirs,  and   comes   into  market  in   season  to 

command  the  highest  prices. 
10 


218         Life     in    St.    Domingo. 

Next  year,  if  I  live,  I  shall  try  to  be  yet  another 
month  earlier,  with  a  still  better  crop.  The  clean 
and  mellow  soil  invited  the  sun  and  rain  to  feed  the 
growing  bulbs  generously  with  warmth  and  mois- 
ture, and,  like  well-fed  children,  they  have  proved 
their  good  keeping  by  their  round  and  healthy 
plumpness. 

Half  of  the  neighborhood  flocked  to  see  the 
''  American  method"  of  digging  potatoes ;  and  when 
the  number  of  curious  visitors  began  to  be  trouble- 
some, I  set  them,  one  and  all,  picking  from  the 
furrows  as  I  laid  the  potatoes  open  with  the  mule 
plough.  The  incurable  idlers  speedily  vanished,  but 
those  who  remained,  with  a  wish  to  be  useful,  I  took 
care  to  pay,  by  giving  them  a  portion  of  what  they 
gathered.  Some  of  them  came  back  the  second,  and 
even  the  third  day,  and  at  the  close  of  the  ingather- 
ing many  carried  home  more  than  they  are  likely  to 
get  from  their  own  ill-kept  gardens. 

This  Sejitember  crop  leaves  the  ground  free  for  a 
replanting,  either  with  potatoes  for  the  latter  part  of 
winter   and  early  spring  market,  or  with  corn  and 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  219 

calabasitas  for  sale  in  all  December.  One  or  the 
other  is  what  a  Dominican  farmer  would  do,  and  it 
had  heen  my  intention  to  follow  the  native  custom, 
but  on  reflection  I  concluded  to  plant  it  with  yauti- 
lia,  the  nearest  thing  possible  to  a  white  and  mealy 
Irish  potato.  I  must  wait  longer  for  the  returns,  as 
this  excellent  root  does  not  mature  in  less  than  seven 
months  ;  biit  when  it  is  ripe  and  ready  it  yields  sur- 
prisingly, and  will  always  command  one  dollar  a 
busliel. 

By  the  way,  I  must  not  forget  to  note  that  Captain 
Ramirez  contracted  with  me  to  take,  at  the  Palenque 
Landing,  all  the  sweet  potatoes  that  I  could  deliver 
to  him  before  the  20th  of  September,  at  one  dollar 
the  bushel. 

To  meet  this  engagement,  I  went  into  the  field  on 
Monday,  the  8th  of  September,  Avith  a  lot  of  lads 
whom  I  hired  to  pick  up  as  I  ploughed  out  the  pota- 
toes, and  Juanico  followed  with  his  donkey  cart,  to 
take  them  down  to  the  landing,  and  put  them  on 
board  the  boat  bound  for  Santo  Domingo  city.  In 
the  evening.     At   four   in   the   afternoon   the   little 


220  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

Alice  had  received  all  she  had  room  for,  in  addition 
to  her  other  cargo ;  but  Capt.  Ramirez  contrived  a 
tent,  ont  of  a  couple  of  old  sails,  to  shelter  the  bal- 
ance, and  have  it  ready  to  ship  on  his  return  trip. 

It  rained  late  in  the  day,  and  again  in  the  after- 
noons of  the  two  succeeding  days,  but  we  had  bright, 
clear  forenoons,  and  we  made  the  most  of  them. 
When  the  Alice  returned  on  Thursday,  and  brought 
up  close  to  the  tent,  her  good  captain  was  startled 
to  find  his  extemporized  storehouse  filled  to  oAun*- 
flowing  with  potatoes. 

"  Where  did  all  these  come  from  ?"  he  asked,  al- 
most in  dismay.  "  I  never  saw  such  a  quantity  of 
potatoes  in  one  heap  since  I  have  lived  on  this 
island." 

There  appeared  to  be  more  than  there  really  were, 
and  Juanico,  who  had  just  brought  in  another  load, 
assured  him  there  were  not  quite  one  hundred  bush- 
els in  the  pile,  all  told.  Ramirez  tliought  there 
must  be  much  more,  and  was  really  uneasy  about 
the  possibility  of  selling  such  a  quantity  all  in  one 
week.     For  in  such  a  petty  peddling  way  is   the  city 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.  221 

of  Santo  Domingo,  a  town  of  about  12,000  inhabi- 
tants, supplied  with  its  every-day  demands  in  this 
line,  that  an  expei'ienced  purveyor  like  Ramirez  was 
seriously  afraid  of  overstocking  the  market  by  offer- 
ing one  hundred  bushels  of  potatoes  at  once  !  He 
told  me  so  quite  seriously,  when  he  ran  up  for  half 
an  hour  in  the  evening,  to  settle  our  last  month's 
garden  account  and  talk  over  his  fears, 

I  laixghed  him  out  of  them  directly,  but  to  set  his 
mind  fully  at  rest,  I  proposed  to  relieve  him  of  his 
contract  for  the  remainder  of  my  potato  crop,  if  the 
portion  of  it  already  at  the  landing  should  not  sell  to 
advantage.  He  bad  sold  forty  bushels,  the  first  de- 
livery from  Ins  boat,  almost  as  soon  as  he  made  fast 
to  the  river  bank  at  Santo  Domingo  city,  and  I 
had  no  doubt  that  the  fine  size  and  quality  of 
that  instalment  would  create  a  demand  for  the  rest. 

So  it  turned  out.  It  was  rather  early  in  the  sea- 
son for  abundant  supplies,  and  when  the  Alice  again 
rounded  into  the  lovely  bay,  Saturday  night,  Captain 
Ramirez  rushed  up  to  the  cottage,  after  ten  o'clock, 
to  beg  of  me  to  have  another  hundred  bushels  ready 


222         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

for  hiiu  early  in  the  week,  as  he  had  engaged  that 
amount  among  the  Dominican  retailers,  provided 
they  were  immediately  forthcoming,  while  prices 
Avere  lively. 

I  was  prepared  for  this,  and  the  additional  quantity 
was  pimctually  delivered  in  season  for  shipment  during 
the  week,  for  I  was  quite  as  anxious  to  clear  the  field 
for  my  yautilia  planting,  not  to  mention  the  inter- 
esting feature  of  dollars,  as  Ramirez  was  to  catch 
the  high  tide  of  the  market. 

Before  the  twentieth,  every  potato  not  reserved 
for  my  own  use  was  disposed  of,  and  the  cash 
as  good  as  in  hand. 

My  first  yuca  crop  in  the  Home  Field  will  be 
the  next  in  order,  and  it  will  probahly  net  me 
about  as  much  as  the  corn  and  potatoes  have 
already  done.  The  beans,  green  and  ripe,  have 
defrayed  almost  entirely  the  table  expenses  of 
my  frugal  housekeeping.  Anita  and  her  children 
have  traded  quite  on  their  own  res^^onsibility,  for  me 
and  for  themsehes,  with  the  whole  circle  of  their 
acquaintance,    for     eggs,   chickens,    cassava    bread, 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  223 

and  fresh  fish  ;  and  I  have  never  heard  of  any  other 
current  coin  m  their  transactions  than  these  beans, 
except  perhaps  a  few  tomatoes,  or  a  handful  of 
bird-pepper  thrown  in  to  make  change. 

Luxuries  I  have  not  aspired  to;  but  the  daily 
wants,  and  even  the  simple  comforts,  of  a  plain 
country  life  have  never  been  wanting,  no,  not  for 
a  single  day,  though  oftentimes  they  have  come, 
I  scarcely  know  how,  like  the  needful  showers  or 
the  silent  refreshing  dew,  from  the  overflowing 
kindness  of  my  Heavenly  Father. 

Having  now  the  means  in  hand  to  employ  help, 
I  directed  Juanico  to  find  a  couple  of  good  men 
to  assist  him  in  preparing  the  ground  and  planting 
the  yautilia,  for  there  was  hardly  time  to  finish  the 
work  belonging  to  this  month.  Besides  this,  I 
wanted  every  hour  I  could  possibly  command  for 
a  new  enterprise  of  my  own ;  an  enterprise  I  now 
consider  of  no  slight  importance,  though  it  had 
hitherto  escaped  my  attention, 

Li  common  with  the  majority  of  Dominicans, 
as  well  as  strangers,  I  had  never  duly  weighed  the 


224:         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

importance,  I  may   say   the  indisjjensable  necessity 
to  a  farmer,  of  a  cocoa-nut  grove. 

But  its  value  was  IJrought  home  to  me  in  the 
acclimating  fever  of  August.  Then,  when  my  ach- 
ing frame  was  stretched  on  a  sick-bed,  and  ray 
whole  system  was  parched  with  fever,  the  cool 
and  wholesome  water  of  the  cocoa-nut  was  like 
purest  nectar  to  my  burning  palate.  The  milk, 
expressed  through  the  grated  meat  of  the  ripe  nut, 
is  a  delicate  substitute  for  both  milk  and  eggs  in 
coffee,  custards,  and  many  other  little  comforts  of 
the  country.  The  fresh  oil,  if  really  fresh,  and  made 
with  care  and  neatness,  is  held  by  competent  cooks 
as  fully  equal  to  butter  and  olive  oil  in  dressing  salads 
and  vegetables.  When  it  is  too  old  for  the  table 
or  for  medicine,  it  is  excellent  fuel  for  lamps.  As 
a  medicine,  it  has  all  the  merits  of  castor-oU  with 
none  of  its  bad  after  consequences,  besides  being 
free  from  its  disgusting  nauseousness.  In  addition 
to  all  these  good  qualities,  the  limpid  and  almost 
tasteless  oil  of  cocoa-nuts  is  of  itself  an  excellent 
liniment  for  bruised  or  rheiimatic  limbs.     I  am  told 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.         225 

that  the  Indians  in  Centi'al  America  use  it  constant- 
ly, internally  and  externally,  as  a  panacea  for  all 
affections  of  the  lungs  and  chest,  and  I  have  myself 
seen  enough  of  its  healing  effects  to  hold  it  in  most 
sincere  respect.  Yet  with  all  this,  while  I  had 
la,bored  to  gather  almost  every  other  useful  fruit 
within  the  compass  of  my  small  homestead,  I  had 
by  some  strange  oversight  made  no  calculation 
whatever  about  planting  a  cocoa-nut  grove. 

I  should  have  attended  to  this  in  July,  August,  or 
September,  for  in  those  rainy  months,  as  I  now 
learn,  the  young  roots  strike  well  into  the  soil,  and 
get  such  a  deep  hold,  that  in  the  drier  after  months 
and  years  they  defy  the  drought  and  continue  to 
shoot  up  vigorously,  with  very  slight  regard  to  wet 
or  dry  seasons.  To  lose  Sej)tember,  was  to  run  the 
risk  of  losing  half  a  year's  growth  of  the  sprouted 
cocoa-nuts,  in  case  October  happens  to  be  a  dry 
month ;  yet  I  saw  no  time  to  plant  them,  for  I  could 
not  think  of  failing  in  my  engagement  to  send  Juan- 
ico  and  my  mule  plough  to  Bani,  before  the  close  of 

September,  to  assist  Felix  in  cleaning  his  cotton  field. 
10* 


226  Life    in    St.    Domingo. 

Felix  himself  came  to  relieve  me  from  this  per- 
plexity. Whether  or  not  he  received  beforehand  a 
hint  to  that  purpose,  from  my  qiiiet  but  never  inat- 
tentive Juanico,  I  cannot  say,  for  we  have  never  had 
a  word  on  the  subject.  I  have  a  private  surmise; 
but  all  I  know  is  that  it  so  fell  out,  when  I  sent 
over  my  incomparable  man  Friday  to  inquire  at  what 
time  Felix  would  require  our  help,  that  he  returned 
with  Felix  himself,  both  of  them  brimming  over  with 
a  new  set  of  propositions. 

Felix  wanted  to  buy  either  the  donkey  cultivator 
or  the  mule  plough,  he  was  not  particular  which,  but 
rather  preferred  the  "  cultivator."  He  said  he  did  not 
wish  to  order  one  from  the  United  States,  for  some- 
thing imperfect  might  come,  or  at  least  some  md- 
quina  which  he  did  not  understand.  He  esteemed 
mine  because  he  had  tried  both  j^lough  and  weeder, 
and  knew  them  to  be  "  miracles  of  utiUty." 
Therefore  he  would  "  supplicate"  me  to  hear  the  ex- 
planations he  had  made  to  his  friend  Juanico,  who,  he 
observed,  in  an  emphatic  parenthesis,  was  my  attach- 
ed and   faithful   servant,   like  himself,  and  when   I 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.        227 

should  understand  the  whole  business,  he  hoped  and 
believed  that  I  would  render  him  the  favor  he  so 
ardently  solicited. 

After  such  a  sjilendid  harangue,  I  could  only  say 
in  a  few  words  that  I  had  not  dreamed  of  parting 
with  either  plough  or  cultivator,  seeing  there  were 
no  others  in  Santo  Domingo,  but  that  I  would  with 
much  pleasure  write  to  the  United  States  and  obtain 
precisely  similar  articles  for  him,  in  the  course  of  per- 
haps two  months. 

"  But  liave  the  kindness  to  hear  from  Juanico  the 
explanations  which  I  have  had  with  him  on  this  affair 
before  you  give  me  a  positive  answer,"  said  Felix. 

"  Cannot  you  state  them  for  yourself,  Felix  ?"  I 
asked,  somewhat  amused  at  the  idea  of  his  employing 
another  to  speak  for  him  when  he  was  there  present, 
and  capable  at  any  time,  and  on  any  subject,  of  out- 
talking  half  a  dozen  Juanicos. 

"  Excuse  me,  Seiior.  Juanico  can  express  it  aU 
in  the  most  proper  manner,"  said  Felix,  bowing  and 
backing  himself  out  of  the  door,  leaving  the  hitherto 
silent- Juanico  in  sole  possession  of  the  floor. 


228  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

"  "Well,  Juauico,  what  does  our  friend  Felix  expect 
of  me  ?"  I  inquired.  Juanico  came  to  the  point  at  a 
bound.  He  is  not  the  man  to  waste  time  in  circum- 
locution. 

"  Felix  is  crazy  to  own  a  plough,  and  he  will  con- 
tract to  j)lant  and  guarantee  the  success  of  fifty  cocoas 
nacidos  (sprouted  cocoa-nuts)  as  a  premium  on  the 
regular  price,  which  he  will  pay  in  money." 

"How  did  he  happen  to  think  of  the  cocoa-nut 
planting  ?"  I  asked,  a  little  mischievously,  for  these 
the  footprints  of  Juanico's  diplomacy  were  too 
plain  to  require  all  the  "  explanations"  with  which 
Felix  covered  himself  as  with  a  mantle  of  state. 

"  You  were  speaking  of  a  cocoa-nut  grove,  Seiior," 
said  Juanico,  modestly,  "  and  Felix  knows  better  than 
any  one  else  around  here,  not  only  where  to  look  for 
the  sprouted  nuts,  but  also  how  to  plant  them  proper- 
ly. It  is  not  every  one  who  has  a  lucky  hand  in  plant- 
ing cocoa-nuts,"  he  added,  softly. 

"  His  offer  is  a  tempting  one,  Juauico,  but  I  fear  it 
is  growing  rather  late  for  planting  this  year.  ^Ye  owe 
Felix  plough-work  for  all  next  week,  and  after  that 


Life     in     St.    Domingo,  229 

we  must  think  of  getting  in  our  early  yuca,  to  meet 
our  engagemeot  with  Captain  Ramirez.  This  will  carry 
us  so  far  into  October,  that  I  am  afraid  to  undertake 
the  cocoa-nut  grove  this  fall." 

"  If  it  is  your  will  to  plant  one,  Seiior,  Felix  must 
set  aside  his  work  until  yours  is  done.  All  that  is 
perfectly  understood,"  said  Juanico,  with  a  smile  of 
gentle  satisfaction. 

"  But  then  comes  our  own  fall  work,"  I  continued, 
dubiously.  "  How  are  we  to  manage  the  crops  in  the 
new  field,  Juanico,  without  at  least  one  ploughing  ? 
We  must  turn  under  the  first  heavy  crop  of  weeds, 
and  go  over  it  once,  if  not  twice,  with  the  cultiva- 
tor." 

"  That  is  understood  also,  Senor,  if  you  please  to 
have  it  so,"  answered  Juanico,  quietly,  in  the 
tone  of  one  who  has  thoroughly  explored  a  knotty 
question,  and  feels  that  he  has  mastered  all  its  rough 
points.  "  Felix  will  be  satisfied  to  have  me  and  the 
plough  for  a  week  in  October.  He  will  not  ask  for 
it  until  after  the  cocoa-nut  grove  is  arranged  to 
your  complete  satisfaction.     At  the  end  of  the  week 


230  Life    in     St.    Dominoo. 

Juanico  and  the  plough  will  return  to  yoix,  Seiior,  if 
it  please  God,  in  a  disposition  to  serve  you  until  you 
have  no  more  need  of  them." 

"  It  will  be  a  long  time  before  the  day  comes  when 
I  shall  not  need  you,  my  faithful  Juanico,"  I  answer- 
ed in  hearty  sincerity  ;  "  but  as  to  the  plough,  it  would 
seem  that  your  plan  is  to  sell  it  to  Felix,  but  keep  it 
for  my  own  use  all  the  same." 

Juanico  smiled  the  soft,  winning  smile  that  becomes 
so  well  his  handsome  mouth  and  dark  Indian  face, 
but  made  no  other  reply. 

"  I  think  Felix  has  set  his  mind  more  on  the  don- 
key cultivator  than  on  the  mule  plough,"  I  resumed, 
after  reflecting  a  moment. 

"  He  wdll  be  well  contented  with  either  one  of 
them,"  said  Juanico  in  reply ;  "  but  whichever  md- 
quina  you  may  choose  to  grant  him,  he  receives  on 
the  condition  "that  it  must  remain  at  your  com- 
mand while  you  have  use  for  it." 

"  On  these  conditions,  Juanico,  I  think  we  may 
afibrd  to  part  with  the  cultivator  as  soon  as  Ave  have 
given  the  October  cleaning  to  our  ncAV  crops.     Felix, 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  231 

it  seems,  pays  for  it  in  advance,  and  has  the  temporary 
use  of  it  when  we  can  spare  it,  and  only  receives  it 
finally,  late  in  the  fall,  when  we  have  no  further  need 
for  it,  and  when  consequently  it  cannot  serve  him 
for  this  year's  work.  It  strikes  me,  Juanico,  that 
this  is  a  safe  bargain,  on  our  side  at  least." 

"  Then  you  are  satisfied  with  my  explanation, 
Seiior !"  said  Juanico,  with  unwonted  animation. 
"  Fehx  may  count  on  having  one  of  the  mdquinas." 

"  Yes,  if  he  seriously  desires  it  on  such  terms,"  I 
replied.  "  But  will  he  commence  planting  my  cocoa- 
nut  grove  without  delay?" 

"  Ah,  Senor,  you  may  be  certain  of  it.  He  will 
plunder  his  own  mother  if  there  is  no  other  way 
to  get  fifty  sprouted  nuts,  and  will  have  them  here 
and  planted  within  three  days,"  said  Juanico,  confi- 
dently. 

Still,  with  the  most  enthusiastic  desire  to  perfect  the 
bargain  at  the  quickest,  Felix  had  not  only  to  exert 
himself  with  energy,  but  I  had  to  woi'k  with  him, 
and  engage  another  man  to  work  with  us,  to  get 
through  the  business  in  a  week. 


232  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

There  "was  some  hesitation  in  the  choice  of  a  part 
of  the  ground.  The  cocoa-nut  delights  in  a  sandy 
and  not  too  rich  soil,  where  its  extensive  roots  can 
strike  deep  and  spread  far ;  and  the  only  suitahle 
place  is  at  the  farther  side  of  the  new  field,  more 
out  of  sight  than  I  like  to  place  a  temptmg  fruit- 
grove.  The  ground  had  been  cleared  with  reference 
to  an  October  planting  of  pole-beans,  and  the  tall 
stems  of  a  thicket  of  saplings  had  been  purposely 
left  for  the  accommodation  of  the  climbing  vines 
"We  had  to  cut  these  bean-supports  away  in  a  great 
measure,  to  make  room  for  the  cocoa-nuts  in  their  due 
spaces,  twenty-five  feet  aj^art ;  and,  when  we  came  to 
measure  the  ground,  it  appeared  there  was  not  enough 
of  this  sandy  hollow  under  fence  to  accommodate 
more  than  forty  trees.  On  the  other  side  of  the  new 
field  fence,  in  the  ten  or  twelve  acres  still  unenclosed, 
which  I  reserve  for  jDasture,  there  is  a  larger  strip  of 
sandy  soil,  running  the  whole  breadth  of  the  "  outside 
land,"  along  the  road,  but  it  is  not  safe  in  its  present 
unenclosed  condition. 

The  animals  at  large  would  browse  off"  the  young 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.         233 

leaves  and  kill  tlie  plants,  if  any  were  set  out  before 
it  was  fenced,  and  more  fencing  is  out  of  question 
this  year ;   so  I  had  to  take  things  as  they  were. 

One  whole  day  was  spent  in  clearing  the  lines,  and 
the  second  I  left  my  hired  hand  to  dig  the  holes  where 
I  had  marked  places  for  them,  and  went  home  to  send 
Juanico  down  to  the  beach  for  a  cart-load  of  salt  sea- 
sand. 

While  at  the  cottage  Felix  arrived  with  a  very  long 
face,  and  a  very  short  account  of  sprouted  cocoa-nuts. 
He  had  ranged  from  Savana  Grande  to  Bani  and  had 
obtained  only  fourteen  reliable  nuts.  "  There  is  a 
miserable  wretch  at  Bani,"  he  said,  with  a  bitterness 
almost  comical  in  its  concentration,  "  who  had  more 
than  three  dozen  laid  up  in  a  corner  of  his  plantain 
walk.  Only  last  night  he  exchanged  all  these  with 
me  for  a  sheep,  which  I  delivered  to  him  on  the  sjoot, 
but  now  the  false  dog  refuses  to  complete  his  bar- 
gain, and  I  had  to  almost  take  with  violence,  from 
one  friend  and  another,  these  few  I  have  brought 
you." 

"  Well,  Felix,  we  will  go   out  and  plant  these  to- 


23-i  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

day.     To-morrow  we  may  find  more  in  some  other 
quarter." 

Felix  shook  his  head  dolefully,  as  much  as  to  say 
that  it  was  a  desperate  hope,  and  that  when  he  de- 
spaired of  accomplishing  any  thing  it  was  folly  for  any 
other  man  to  think  of  succeeding.  He  followed  me 
to  the  field  with  his  meagre  donkey-load  nevertheless, 
and  before  we  had  finished  our  planting  he  had  talked 
himself  into  a  more  cheerful  view  of  the  case.  It  was 
an  alleviating  cu'cumstance  that,  for  want  of  immediate 
space,  probably  no  more  than  forty  nacidos  would  be 
required  this  year.  I  am  obstinate  in  the  idea,  that 
it  is  not  profitable  to  plant  fruit-trees  of  any  kind 
in  a  crowded,  irregular  manner,  still  less  would  I 
waste  time  and  trouble  in  settmg  them  out  in  an  un- 
safe situation,  where  the  chances  are  strongly  against 
their  living  six  months.  After  all,  a  grove  of 
forty  bearing  trees  will  jdeld  a  goodly  supply  of  cocoar 
nuts. 

In  a  congenial  soil,  and  with  ample  space,  a  cocoa 
will  drop  about  two  hundi-ed  nuts  in  a  j^ear,  while  in 
a  clayey  or  rocky  soil  a  crowded  grove  will  scarcely 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  235 

average  forty.  When  treated  two  or  three  times  a 
year  to  a  handful  of  salt,  by  throwing  it  into  the 
green  heart  of  the  plume  of  branches,  a  thriving  cocoa 
will  often  begin  to  bear  in  five  years  ;  but  Avithout 
this  attention  it  is  not  to  be  expected  under  its  sev- 
enth year, — a  gain  of  two  years  in  time  and  a  double 
yield  of  fruit  for  a  half  hour  of  attention,  and  perhaps 
a  pint  of  salt  to  each  tree. 

In  planting,  it  is  only  necessary  to  dig  a  hole  some- 
what more  than  large  enough  to  hold  the  sprouted 
nut,  which  will  generally  have  a  little  rootlet  or  two 
piercing  through  the  husk,  at  the  same  time  that  a 
green  tuft  emerges  from  the  stem  end.  Two  or  three 
quarts  of  moist  sea-sand  is  thrown  under  and  around 
the  nut,  when  the  sea-sand  is  obtainable  ;  and  when 
it  is  not,  a  handful  of  common  salt  is  mixed  with  the 
earth  and  put  in  lightly  around  it  in  place  of  the  sand. 
The  nut  should  be  set  with  just  enough  pressure 
to  hold  the  sjirout  upright  in  its  place,  with  the  up- 
I>er  surface  of  the  nut  at  the  level  or  slightly  above 
the  level  of  the  ground,  and  if  it  can  be  shaded  for  a 
month  or  two  it  is  all  the  better. 


236  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

The  Dominicans  call  tliis  very  careful  planting,  and 
this,  Avith  the  moderate  trouble  of  hoeing  away 
the  weeds  three  or  four  times  the  first  year — about 
as  much  labor  as  a  Northern  farmer  bestows  upon 
every  hill  of  corn  which  he  raises — is  positively  all 
that  the  neatest  and  most  considerate  of  planters  ever 
thinks  of  devoting  to  a  cocoa-nut  grove.  With  this 
much  care,  not  one  out  of  twenty  healthy  sprouts  will 
fail  to  flourish,  if  planted  any  time  between  the  begin- 
ning of  May  and  the  last  of  September.  Yet  many, 
if  not  most,  of  the  small  land  owners  on  this  island 
consent  to  live  without  the  comfort  of  possessing  a 
single  one  of  these  precious  and  hardy  trees  on  their 
homesteads. 

I  shall  try  hard  to  procure  forty  nuts  at  least,  since 
I  cannot  carry  out  my  plan  for  fifty,  and  am  not  like- 
ly to  be  disappointed  in  their  well-being. 

Felix  and  I  had  planted  our  first  fourteen, 
and  were  helping  Juanico  distribute  his  load  of 
sea-sand  in  the  holes  my  hii-ed  man  was  making 
for  their  companions,  should  I  have  the  good  for- 
time  to   obtain   them,   when   the    gathering    clouds 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  237 

warned  us  to  seek  shelter  from  a  heavy  rain  not 
far  off. 

Fehx  started  on  a  run  dkectly  for  the  cottage,  and 
Juanico  and  I  followed  with  the  donkey- cart  by  the 
road,  after  finishing  with  the  sand.  As  we  were 
opening  the  gate  of  the  Home  Field,  Juanico  hap- 
pened to  glance  down  the  road,  and  spied  a  woman 
travelling  at  extraordinary  speed,  considering  that 
she  was  mounted  on  a  wonderfully  small  donkey,  for, 
as  a  rule,  none  of  these  animals  are  remarkable  for 
swiftness.  She  called  out  to  us,  to  ask  if  there  was 
not  a  gentleman  known  as  Seuor  Vecino  who  lived 
somewhere  in  this  neighborhood.  I  replied  that  I 
answered  to  that  name  among  my  neighbors,  and 
waited  for  her  to  draw  up  and  take  breath,  although 
the  sky  was  rapidly  darkening  overhead. 

"If  you  are  the  Seiior,  I  am  your  servant  Rosa 
Dalmeyda,  and  have  some  business  with  you,"  she 
said,  as  she  joined  us. 

"In  that  case  I  must  beg  of  you  to  proceed 
to  the  house,  for  the  rain  will  be  upon  us  in  a  mo- 
ment,"    I    answered,    wondering  what    she    could 


23S  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

want  of  me,  and  how  I  should  dispose  of  her  this 
rainy  evening. 

I  hastened  to  conduct  my  unexpected  visitor  to  the 
cottage ;  and  we  were  not  a  second  too  soon,  for  the 
thunder-storm  burst  upon  us  in  torrents  before  we 
were  fairly  seated.  Fehx  had  gone,  for  the  moment, 
to  the  old  cabin,  where  he  has  his  night-quarters, 
and  Juanico  hurried  to  the  shed  behind  it,  to  shelter 
Burro  and  the  stranger's  donkey,  so  that  I  was  left 
alone  to  attend  to  my  visitor,  and  learn  at  her  pleas- 
ure what  business  she  had  come  to  transact  with  me. 
I  was  not  kept  long  in  suspense. 

The  amiable  Rosa  informed  me  off-hand  that  she 
was  the  wife  of  "  the  man  Andres,  who  had  sold  a 
quantity  of  magnificent  cocoas  nacidas  to  '  Senor' 
Felix,"  which  magnificent  nacidas  she  understood 
were  destined  for  me ;  and  she  had  made  this  joiu-- 
ney  to  know  if  in  truth  I  wanted  to  buy  them,  and 
whether  I  was  disposed  to  pay  for  them  in  silver. 

I  answered  by  asldng  if  her  husband  had  not 
already  received  from  "Seiior"  Fehx  the  payment 
agreed   upon.      With    a    charming   frankness    Rosa 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  239 

Dalmeyda  admitted  that  the  "man  Andres"  had, 
only  the  night  before,  received  a  young  sheep  accord- 
ing to  contract;  further,  that  he  had  brought  it  home 
and  killed  it,  but  that  he  had  carried  off  most  of  the 
meat  and  sold  it  for  rum. 

"  Andres  went  to  bed  drunk,"  she  continued,  "  and 
I  went  out  with  my  son  and  nephew  and  hid  the 
nacidas  where  the  beast  could  not  find  them  in  the 
morning."  Rosa  then  went  on  to  inform  me,  in  the 
free  and  easy  spirit  of  frankness  characteristic  of  her 
class,  that  for  me  there  would  be  no  cocoa-nuts  until 
she  saw  the  silver. 

"  So  Senor  Felix  cannot  receive  the  cocoa-nuts  he 
has  paid  for,  and  I  perhaps  may  not  obtain  them  at 
all  ?"  I  observed,  interrogatively. 

"  Of  course  not,  Seiior,  unless  I  am  paid  for  them," 
said  Rosa,  with  a  determined  toss  of  her  head.  "  It 
is  I  who  own  the  trees.  I  planted  them  when  we 
were  first  married,  and  I  must  have  the  price  for 
the  nuts." 

"  But  Senor  Felix  may  choose  to  call  Andres  before 
the  Alcalde  for  selling  property  that  does  not  belong 


240         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

to  liiin,"  I  ventured  to  observe  ;  "  and  tliis  you  knoAV, 
Rosa,  is  a  matter  of  imprisonment  under  the  Spanish 
law." 

"  That  is  not  my  affair,"  repHed  the  affectionate 
wife,  with  sublime  composure,  "  What  concerns  me 
is,  to  learn  whether  you  decide  to  buy  my  cocoa- 
nuts.     Yes  or  no  ?" 

"That  depends  upon  what  Felix  says,  and  there 
he  is  to  give  us  his  opinion  on  the  subject,"  I 
said,  looking  up  at  Felix,  who  had  stopped  in 
the  doorway,  surprised  at  this  sudden  apparition 
of  his  Bani  neighbor  iu  my  premises. 

Felix  Avas  severely  polite  with  her,  but  she  forced 
him,  in  spite  of  every  thing,  to  admit  that  she  Avas 
really  the  owner  of  the  cocoa-nuts,  and  that  she  had, 
by  law  and  custom,  the  right  to  receive  payment  for 
them.  Felix  protested  against  paying  twice,  but  I 
finally  compromised  matters  by  agreeing  to  give  her 
un  real  de  diez  each — ten  cents — for  twenty-six  nuts, 
the  number  I  then  thought  I  required  to  fill  out  my 
space. 

As  soon  as  this  was  settled  Rosa  asked  for  her 


Life    in    St.    Domingo,  241 

donkey,   for  tlie  shower  was  over,   and  started  off 

by  tlie  starlight  to  meet  her  nephew  at  the  house  of  a 

friend  in  the  neighborhood.     She  had   out-rode  the 

boy  because  his  donkey  was  loaded  with  a  portion 

of  the   very  nacidas   in    question,    which    she    now 

declared  she  had  brought  with  her,  in  the  faith  that 

I  must  and  would  buy  them,  as  there  were  no  others 

to   be    had     at    that  moment.     She   promised,  and 

she    kept  her   promise,  to   be    at   the   gate    of  the 

new  field  with  her  Avhole  load  punctually  at  sunrise. 

She  also  engaged  that  her  nephew  should   assist   iu 

planting  them,  and  that  too  was  fulfilled  to  the  letter. 

At  break  of  day  Juanico  started  for  the  beach  for 

another  load  of  sea-sand,  while  Fehx  and  I,  after  an 

early  cup  of  coffee,  went  directly  to  the  field  to  meet 

Rosa  and  her  charge.     Many  hands  make  light  work, 

and  the  balance  of  my  tri]>le  row  of  sprouted  cocoas 

were  in  the  ground   by  ten  in  the  forenoon.     We 

added  one  more  plant  to  our  first  line  of  fourteen, 

making  fifteen  in  the  row  nearest  the  fence,  and  set 

twelve  in  each  of  the  two  parallel  rows,  and  then  the 

nuts  gave  out. 
11 


242  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

On  close  measuring,  I  saw  that  by  removing  two 
large  stumps,  which  were  badly  in  the  way,  I  could 
extend  the  second  and  third  lines  as  far  as  the 
first,  and  so  make  my  cocoa-grove  a  regular  oblong 
of  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  feet  by  seventy- 
five,  containing  three  lines  of  cocoas — fifteen  in 
each  line  and  forty-five  in  all.  This  will  entirely 
fill  up  the  only  bit  of  poor  land  I  have  under 
fence,  and  will  scarcely  trench  on  the  good  land  by 
it.  Before  we  left  the  field  I  made  my  arrangements 
to  have  the  stumps  dug  out,  and  secured  another 
half  dozen  nacidas  from  Rosa. 

She  was  punctual,  and  to-day,  the  29th  of  Septem- 
ber, the  planting  of  ray  cocoa-nut  grove  is,  hap- 
pily for  me,  an  accomplished  fact. 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.         243 


CHAPTER  XI. 


OCTOBER. 


Triumph  of  Felix. — Auspicious  return  of  Juanico. — Ilis  unwonted 
gayety. — How  accounted  for. — Don  Delfino  imports  a  Stump- 
Extractor. — Great  excitement  in  the  neighborhood. — We  mus- 
ter our  forces. — How  we  obtain  recruits. — The  process  of 
stump-extracting. — Anita's  collation. — Private  dinner  in  the 
North  Arbor. — Don  Julio  appears  again. — Fresh  attack  on  the 
enemy. — Close  of  the  contest. — The  "Extractor"  victorious. — 
Delfino's  invitation. — I  accept  it. — His  plantation. — What  we 
do  there. 

This  lovely  October  has  been  almost  a  month  of 
festival,  though  by  no  means  a  month  of  idleness. 
At  the  close  of  September  Felix  carried  off  in  tri- 
umph the  mule-plough  and  the  donkey-cultivator, 
together  with  Juanico  to  aid  in  their  management, 
and  he  astonished  to  his  heart's  content  the  good 
people  of  Bani  by  their  stupendous  success  in  the 
cotton-field. 

This  field,  of  perhaps  three    acres  in  extent,  had 


2-lr-i  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

been  prepared  and  planted  by  the  hoe  alone  in  all 
May,  and  it  is  now  bursting  into  ripe  and  snowy 
bolls  in  every  direction.  It  was  while  Felix  was 
giving  this  field  its  first  clearing  with  the  hoe,  that 
he  heard  from  some  stray  visitor  an  account  of  the 
wonderful  performances  of  the  donkey  "  limpiador" 
in  my  corn-field,  and  he  forthwith  formed  a  desire  to 
see  its  action,  but  with  scarcely  the  remotest  idea  of 
ever  owning  one  himself. 

When  Juanico,  his  cousin  three  times  removed, 
applied  to  him  for  banana-roots,  I  presume  the  hope 
and  the  way  of  using  such  rnaquinas  himself  first 
opened  dimly  before  him,  and  he  pursued  the 
thought  until  he  has  realized  his  desire. 

In  a  week  Juanico,  Felix,  and  the  "/ndquinas  had 
among  them  done  all  that  it  was  possible  to  do  for 
his  corn  and  cotton-fields,  both  being,  in  fiict,  many 
weeks  past  the  time  m  which  the  weeding  ought 
to  have  been  performed  ;  but  the  profound  ambition 
of  Felix  was  perfectly  accomplished.  He  over- 
whelmed the  doubts  of  his  hitherto  incredulous  and 
sneering  neighbors  by  his  splendid  operations,  and, 


Life    in     St,    Domingo.  245 

in  his  own  words,  "  granting  that  it  was  at- 
tempted somewhat  late  in  the  season,  it  was  worth 
more  than  it  cost  to  tear  up  the  ground  so  magnifi- 
cently." 

The  whole  turn-out  came  hack  radiant  with 
victory.  Felix,  Juanico,  the  donkey-cart,  with 
plough  and  cultivator  stowed  safe  and  sound  amid  a 
pile  of  cabbages  and  sugar-cane,  rolled  up  to  the 
cottage — the  whole  concern  singing  and  rattling 
in  a  chorus  of  glee — very  late  Saturday  night. 
They  found  me  still  up,  and  as  happy  as  them- 
selves. 

Delfino  had  rode  in  an  hour  before  them,  and  had 
promised  to  stay  most  of  the  coming  w^eek  with  me. 
He  expected  by  the  Alice  some  farming  implements, 
which  had  just  arrived  at  Santo  Domingo  City  in  a 
vessel  from  New  York,  and  we  were  to  examine  and 
prove  some  of  them  at  my  place  before  they  were 
sent  up  to  his  plantation. 

Juanico  was  delighted  to  see  his  old  master,  and 
imputed  his  unwonted  flow  of  gayety,  which  he 
declared   he  had  felt  all  tbe  way  home  from  Bani, 


246         Life    in     St,    Domingo. 

"  to  an  inspiration  that  a  great  pleasure  was  awaiting 
hiiu."  I  was  so  uncharitable  as  to  suspect  that  a 
drop  or  two  of  native  spirits  had  some  part  in 
unloosing  the  tongue  of  ray  usually  serious  and  quiet 
retainer,  but  I  kept  this  unfeeling  suspicion  closely 
to  myself. 

Felix  had  only  returned  with  Juanico  to  spend 
Sunday  and  attend  church  at  Nizao ;  but  when  he 
understood  that  among  other  things  Senor  Delfino 
would  probably  receive  by  the  Ahce  a  mdquina  for 
pulling  stumps  out  of  the  ground,  as  a  dentist  draws 
teeth,  he  was  all  alive  to  have  a  hand  in  the  first  ex- 
periment. 

The  only  ground  I  had  open  to  this  work  was  the 
comer  of  the  Home  Field  occupied  by  a  part  of  the 
yuca  crop,  which  I  was  at  this  very  time  taking  out 
and  delivering  to  Captain  Ramirez  on  our  old  con- 
tract. 

Fehx  volimteered  his  help  to  dig  the  yuca,  as  well 
as  in  operating  the  stump  machine  ;  and  on  its  being 
accepted  he  started  home  directly  from  church  in 
the  morning,  to  get  his  working   clothes  and  give 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.  247 

some  farm  directions,  in  order  to  liasten  back  by 
Monday  evening.  While  Juanico  was  absent  at 
Bani  I  had  commenced  digging  yuca  Avith  two  hired 
men  under  charge  of  Juan,  and  fortunately  that  busi- 
ness was  nearly  over  when  Delfino  arrived. 

I  have  also  had  to  make  the  rounds  of  my  fruit- 
trees  this  month ;  pruning  here,  earthing  up  there, 
and  leaving  them  clean  about  the  roots  everywhere  ; 
and  this,  with  an  hour's  help  and  supervision  in  the 
yuca  patch,  pretty  well  carried  away  my  forenoons 
for  the  first  two  weeks  in  October.  There  was 
plenty  to  do  still  before  me,  but  now  that  I  had  Del- 
fino with  me  the  work  went  merrily  on. 

The  men  had  to  labor  steadily  in  the  yuca-field,  for 
Captain  Ramirez  was  impatient  to  get  the  crop  to 
market.  He  made  his  account  handsomely  with  the 
potatoes,  and  hoped  to  do  quite  as  well  with  the  yuca, 
but  in  this  we  were  both  somewhat  disappointed. 

The  potatoes  were  in  the  main  planted  in  the  old 
clearing,  where  the  ox-plough  could  be  driven 
through  the  rich  loam  without  much  difiiculty.  A 
large  portion  of  the  yuca,  on  the  contrary,  was  plant- 


248  Life     in     St,    Domingo. 

ed  in  the  fresh  clearing,  where  the  j^lough  could  only 
meander  among  the  stumps  in  a  tediously  imperfect 
manner,  and  Avhere  much  of  the  work,  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  digging  out  the  crop  included,  liad  to  he 
done  in  the  slow,  laborious,  and  unprofitable  mode 
of  the  country,  which  is  invariably  by  hand,  with 
the  heavy  native  hoes.  The  result  is,  that  it  cost  me 
three  times  as  much  labor  to  get  two  hundred 
bushels  of  yuca  out  of  this  stumpy  ground  as  it  did 
to  take  up  the  same  quantity  of  potatoes,  where  I 
could  furrow  them  out  with  the  plough.  The  yield 
is  also  fifty  per  cent,  less  to  the  acre ;  the  roots  not 
only  being  few  in  mmiber,  but  small  in  size  ;  and  my 
gains  on  this  part  of  my  planting  are  very  insignifi- 
cant. This  discouraging  comparison  only  applies, 
however,  to  the  acre  and  half,  or  thereabouts, 
dotted  with  stumps  ;  the  remainder  of  the  yuca  was 
on  clear  ground,  and  has  made  me  as  good  returns 
as  my  corn  and  potatoes. 

Felix  came  back  in  time  to  aid  us  in  disposing  of 
the  last  of  the  yuca,  and  every  thing  was  made  ready 
to  welcome  the  "  stump-extractor." 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  249 

The  Alice  did  not  heave  in  sight  until  late  Tuesday 
afternoon,  and  we  had  a  busy  day  Wednesday  get- 
ting Delfiuo's  property  ashore  and  housed.  The 
stump-puller  we  set  up  at  once  on  the  field  of  opera- 
tions, and  gave  it  a  hurried  trial  the  same  afternoon, 
but  it  was  already  late,  and  we  were,  besides,  too 
tired  to  attack  a  stump  of  respectable  size  that 
evening. 

On  Thursday  we  mustered  in  full  array,  and  after 

selecting  a   grand  old  logwood  stump  to  start  with, 

Ave    all    went   at    it   with    vigorous    determination. 

Juanico  hoed  away  the  groimd,  to  lay  bare  to  the 

axe    the   large    out-lying    roots ;    I     chopped    them 

off,  at  a  distance  of  two  feet   or  thirty  inches  from 

the   stem ;    Delfino   adjusted  the   heavy  chain-hooks 

to   these  prongs,  and   Juan,   Felix,  and  a   stalwart 

native  plied  the  lever.     Slowly,  but  surely,  uprose 

the  stump,   "  broadside  to,"  until  it  rested  on  the 

tips  of  the  set  of  prongs  opposite  to  those  held  by 

the  chains.     Then   we  "  slacked  away,"  and  carried 

the  hooks  close  into    the    body  of  the    stump    for 

pull  number  two. 
11* 


250         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

All  hands  now  bent  to  the  lever,  for  we  were  all 
excited  with  our  splendid  beginning,  and  eager  to 
give  it  the  crowning  touch.  The  binding  trader- 
roots  strained  and  snapped,  the  earth  dropped  away, 
and  the  gnarled  and  spreading  net-work  lay  up- 
turned to  the  sun.  Felix  was  in  ecstasy ;  Delfino 
gave  a  long,  glad  shout,  and  I  am  sure  I  did  my 
part  towards  swelling  the  hubbub  of  joy  that 
welcomed  the  brave  first  eifort  of  our  new  stump- 
machine. 

In  a  short  time  several  of  our  neighbors  presented 
themselves,  to  look  and  talk  merely,  as  they  had 
flattered  themselves,  but,  as  we  chose  to  interpret 
the  situation,  to  work  with  us.  We  soon  had 
them  busy  with  hoe,  axe,  and  lever.  Delfino  and 
I  organized  ourselves  into  a  committee  of  direc- 
tion ;  and  when  at  dinner  we  revised  our  proceed- 
ings, and  rej^orted  to  each  other  in  detail,  we  were 
unanimously  of  the  opinion  that  we  had  performed 
our  duties  to  admiration.  Whenever  a  well-built, 
sinewy  man  entered  the  field,  we  invited  him  to  try 
with  us  the  magical  powers  of  the  lever,  or  (merely 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  251 

to  show  him  how  the  whole  thing  was  done)  to 
spell  Juan  with  the  axe  or  Felix  with  the  hoe. 
If  he  came  mounted  we  borrowed  his  animal,  and 
himself  with  it,  to  drag  away  the  extracted  roots 
which  "impeded  the  free  progress  of  the  work." 
Nobody  was  spared,  and  there  was  no  relaxation 
of  effort  in  any  department  until  about  twenty 
stumps  had  been  wrested  from  the  bosom  of  mother 
earth. 

Anita,  who  had  been  collecting  the  wherewith 
in  honor  of  Delfino's  company,  contrived  a  rather 
neat  collation,  to  which  all  who  had  held  out  till 
noon  were  invited.  After  the  rest  of  the  family 
and  the  strangers  were  dispatched,  she  gave  us,  that 
is,  Delfino  and  myself,  a  mysterious  hint  to  retire  to 
the  "North  Arbor."  This  is  an  affair  more  shed 
than  arbor,  which  Juanico  and  I  had  put  up  at 
odd  hours  against  the  rear  of  the  cottage,  for  a  kind 
of  kitchen,  and  sleeping-place  for  an  occasional  hired 
hand.  It  is  a  retired  nook,  one  side  of  which  is 
covered  with  a  fruit-yielding  variety  of  the  passion- 
flower, and   Anita   had   now  set  it   in  order  for   a 


252  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

more  elaborate  dinner,  which  she  had  prepared  for 
the  Senor  Vecino  y  sus  aniigos  nobles — for  me 
and  my  "  noble  friends." 

I  understand  Anita's  motives  in  securing  me  a 
little  quiet  and  privacy  at  meal-time  and  looked 
round  for  Delfino.  He  had  started  ofi"  before  me, 
and  I  stepped  in  after  him  to  a  most  pleasant  sur- 
prise. For  Don  Julio  met  me  at  the  doorway  with 
outstretched  hand,  and  explained  that  he  had 
cautioned  Anita  not  to  mention  his  arrival,  until 
I  had  disposed  of  the  men  who  had  followed  me 
from  the  field.  He  too  had  come  to  see  the  opera 
tion  of  the  "  Yankee  Stump-Extractor,"  but  he 
laughingly  warned  me  not  to  expect  much  assistance 
from  him  ;  for  he  did  not  take  kindly  to  axe,  hoe, 
or  lever;  having  in  short  a  constitutional  inaptness 
for  all  classes  of  useful  employment. 

Delfino  replied  that  the  mdquina  was  a  curiosity 
not  to  be  exhibited  or  comprehended  under  the  price 
of  at  least  an  hour's  faithful  service  ;  still,  out  of 
tender  consideration  to  his  friend's  chronic  debility, 
moral  and  physical,  which,  he  was  sorry  to  admit,  he 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  253 

knew  was  no  pretence,  but  an  affecting  and  incurable 
reality,  the  terms  should  be  modified  to  meet  his  case. 
Don  Julio  would  only  be  required  to  put  to  work  and 
keep  at  work,  whatever  tenants  of  his  own  should 
hajipen  to  straggle  in  upon  us  dui-ing  the  afternoon. 

"  Will  you  not  accept  as  a  substitute  my  mayoral, 
who  is  coming  over  with  a  brace  of  hands  and  a 
yoke  of  oxen,  to  offer  their  assistance  for  a  day  or 
two  ?"  inquired  Don  Julio,  as  he  seated  himself  at 
the  table,  and  held  out  his  jilate  for  some  of  Anita's 
appetizing  chowder. 

"  By  no  means ;  I  will  prove  to  you  that  it  is  an  ab- 
surd proposition,  mnigo  mio^''  said  Delfino,  holding 
out  his  plate  in  turn.  "  Your  mayoral,  youv  servants 
and  your  oxen,  must  be  considered  as  pupils,  whom 
we  shall  favor  gratis  with  a  course  of  instruction  in 
a  new  and  profound  branch  of  science.  They  ought 
to  pay  us  liberally  for  teaching  them,  but  we  are 
generous,  and  will  waive  that,  only  insisting  that 
you,  who  unfortunately  have  not  the  capacity  to 
learn  any  thing  useful,  shall  be  kept  out  of  mischief 
by  at  least  'playing  work.'  " 


254         Life    in     St.    Domino o. 

Anita  put  an  end  to  tliis  pleasant  war  of  words  by 
bringing  in  the  roasted  chicken,  and  with  it  a  mes- 
sage from  Juanico  to  the  effect  that  Don  Julio's  peo- 
ple had  come,  and  that  Felix  had  ah-eady  returned  to 
the  field  with  them,  and  that  he,  Juanico,  was  wait- 
ing my  orders.  I  directed  him  to  go  on  as  in  the  fore- 
noon, with  axe  and  hoe,  preparing  the  roots  for  the 
action  of  the  radquina  until  we  joined  them.  Del- 
fino  added  a  charge  that  every  man  who  entered  the 
field  should  forthwith  be  set  to  work,  but  that  no  one, 
not  even  Felix,  should  be  permitted  to  use  or  meddle 
with  the  stump-machme  until  we  were  on  the  ground 
to  direct  its  management.  We  then  voted  ourselves, 
after  the  fashion  of  managers,  another  hour  of  rest 
before  we  joined  the  laborers,  and  that  brought  us 
among  them  only  vrhen  it  was  nearly  three  in  the 
afternoon. 

We  found  half  the  working  men  of  Savana 
Grande,  and  a  sprinkling  of  the  women,  assembled  to 
witness  proceedings,  but  few  of  them  were  allowed 
to  be  idle  spectators.  Those  who  had  neither  hoe  nor 
axe  to  work  with,  were  directed  how  to  chop  off"  the 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.         255 

roots  of  the  smaller  stuiiUDS  with  their  machetes  /  nnd 
those  who  could  do  nothing  else  were  employed  in 
j)rying  up  the  points  of  the  prongs  the  others  had 
cut,  thus  putting  them  in  greater  readiness  to  receive 
the  chain-hooks.  Felix  and  Don  Julio's  old  mayoral 
flew  about  the  field  Uke  men  possessed  with  the  very 
demon  of  activity,  giving  no  one  a  moment's  respite, 
and  really  getting  no  small  amount  of  hard  work  out 
of  these  forced  recruits.  The  stump-machine  was 
well  plied  that  afternoon. 

Delfino  took  the  charge  of  that,  with  the  se- 
rene pride  of  conscious  power.  He  would,  as 
a  particular  favor,  call  up  by  threes  and  fours  the 
men  who  had  been  at  work  getting  the  roots  in 
the  proper  state,  and  teach  them  practically,  as  part 
of  the  entertainment,  how  to  use  the  lever.  Now 
and  then  an  obstinate  old  stager  would  cling  to  its 
long  anchorage  with  especial  tenacity,  but  we  over- 
came them  one  by  one  as  we  went  on,  and  left  noth- 
ing behind  us  but  one  large  and  stubborn  mahogany 
stump,  not  far  from  the  corner. 

This  patriarch  of  the  forest  had  been  cut  down 


256  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

long  before  I  bought  the  phice,  but  its  vast  size  and 
soUd  spreading  roots  were  still  too  fresh  and  stout 
for  our  hand-power  extractor.  We  did  not  waste 
much  time  on  it,  however,  and  the  less,  as  we  used 
that  corner  for  piling  up  roots  to  dry  for  fuel.  A 
Httle  hill  of  stumps  soon  rose  upon  and  around 
the  mahogany  giant  as  we  held  on  in  steady  earnest 
for  the  rest  of  the  week. 

The  machine  had  been  warranted  to  clear  half  an 
acre  a-day,  if  worked  by  two  good  men,  but  it  falls 
considerably  short  of  this  with  us,  though  we  had 
hoe  and  axemen  to  cut  off  the  main  sj^readers,  and 
two,  often  four  men  to  work  the  lexer.  In  three  days, 
with  plenty  of  help  and  no  bad  Aveather  to  impede 
us,  we  had  gone  oA^er  but  about  an  acre.  However, 
it  was  thoroughly  cleared,  with  the  single  excejDtion 
of  that  royal  old  mahogany  stump.  It  was  curious 
to  see  how  the  ground  was  dimpled  with  fresh  holes, 
as  if  it  had  passed  through  a  severe  visitation  of  the 
small-pox. 

Delfino  suggests  planting  Irish  potatoes  in  these 
beds,  in  a  peculiar  method,  which  he  says  a  friend  of 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  257 

his  has  Lately  tried  with  success,  not  in  cliance  holes, 
but  in  trenches  made  for  the  purpose.  For  the  last 
three  or  four  years  this  gentleman  has  in  this  manner 
raised  all  he  wants  for  family  use.  A  part  of  the 
ground  lies  over  for  this  experiment,  which  properly 
belongs  to  November,  but  the  rest  of  it  had  to  go 
under  the  plough  at  once  for  a  crop  of  field-peas. 

Delfino's  mule-cart  carried  off,  at  the  close  of  the 
week,  most  of  the  various  articles  the  Alice  brought 
for  him,  but  he  left  the  stump-machine  with  me  for  a 
few  days.  He  would  not  take  it  away  while  my  work 
was  unfinished ;  besides,  he  wished  his  intelligent 
and  confidential  man  Isidro  to  remain  with  me  to 
practise  upon  it,  as  he  had  formerly  done  with  the 
plough,  and  thus  fit  himself  to  assist  his  master  in 
teaching  the  other  servants  how  to  use  and  take  care 
of  it. 

Delfino  himself  finally  decided  to  remain  with  me 
on  condition  that  I  would  return  with  him  to  his 
plantation,  if  only  to  pass  Saturday  and  Sunday. 

I  had  closed  and  settled  my  yuca  engagement  with 
Captain  Ramirez ;  the  field-peas  could  be,  and  were 


258  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

attendeil  to  daring  tLe  balance  of  Deltiuo's  stay ;  all 
the  farm-Avork  for  October  was  well  out  of  hand,  and 
what  remained  to  be  done  could  very  safely  be  left 
to  my  trusty  Juauico ;  so  I  felt  myself  free  to  close 
October  with  a  few  days'  delightful  relaxation  with 
my  friend  Delfino  on  his  sugar  plantation. 

His  seiwant  Isidro  was  directed  to  follow  us  oa 
foot  at  his  leisure,  and  I  mounted  the  fine  horse  on 
which  he  came,  to  make  the  first  pleasure  trip  I  have 
allowed  myself  since  my  arrival  in  Santo  Domingo. 

We  had  a  charming  ride  through  a  lovely  country, 
over  the  broad  savannas  and  then  up  through  the 
romantic  hills  that  encircle  the  town  and  table-lauds 
of  San  Cristoval.  The  balmy,  delicious  mornings  of 
Santo  Domingo  are  seldom  marred  by  high  winds  or 
ram,  and  in  the  exhilaration  of  our  dashing  ride,  on 
Delfino's  swift,  easy-paced  horses,  the  air  seemed 
more  fragrant  and  invigorating  than  ever. 

Delfino's  place  is  charmingly  situated  on  the  crest 
of  a  commanding  plateau  and  replete  Avith  country 
comforts.  Every  thing  is  home-like  and  I  felt  at 
home.     We  went  over  his  large  plantation  watching. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  259 

examining,  noting,  comparing,  planning,  and  work- 
ing, even  as  we  had  gone  together  over  my  wild 
httle  homestead,  both  of  us  full  of  improvement  pro- 
jects. 

Delfino  is  sick  and  tu*ed  of  the  hoe  husbandry  of 
Santo  Domingo,  and  is  bent  on  introducing  our 
labor-saving  implements  from  the  United  States. 
With  such  a  tedious,  expensive,  unsatisfactory  mode 
of  tilling  the  soil,  I  only  wonder  that  any  man  has 
the  courage  to  attempt  it.  The  one  thing  for  whicli 
it  will  answer  is  said  to  be  coifee,  and  Delfino's  coffee 
grove  undoubtedly  does  pay  very  well  indeed,  for 
the  soil  and  climate  are  fiivorable  and  it  is  judicious- 
ly tended.  But  as  to  his  sugai'-field  it  does  not  re- 
turn him,  acre  for  acre,  as  much  by  forty  per  cent,  as 
I  have  made  out  of  my  corn,  beans,  and  potatoes. 
Sugar-raising  on  a  large  scale,  with  the  best  imple- 
ments of  agriculture,  and  suitable  means  for  extract- 
ing and  refining  it,  is  probably  the  most  profitable 
crop  in  the  world  except  cotton,  in  a  good  cotton 
region ;  but  to  a  man  with  narrow,  imperfect  means, 
breadstulFs  and  field  vegetables  are  by  far  the  surest 


2G0  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

dependence.  This  mueli  I  liave  learned  for  a  cer- 
tainty from  my  visit  at  Delfino's  plantation.  I  had 
thought  so  before,  but  on  a  close  scrutiny  of  out-go 
and  income,  I  now  know  by  reliable  facts  and  fig- 
ures that  our  northern  way  of  cultivation,  applied  to 
products  which  every  farmer  there  understands, 
may  be  counted  upon,  acre  for  acre  and  man  for 
man,  for  a  yield  quite  equal  to  any  average  sugar- 
crop.  It  is  the  bounteous  climate,  which  allows  j^ro- 
ductions  to  go  on  all  the  year  round,  and  insures  a 
continued  succession  of  crojjs,  and  not  this  or  that 
pet  product,  which  makes  tropical  farming  so  profit- 
able. Sugar,  cotton,  coffee,  and  indigo,  undoubtedly 
make  rich  returns,  but  so  does  every  other  cro]}  that 
man  demands  for  his  daily  use ;  and  e\ery  one  with 
health  and  energy  to  do  a  man's  work,  can  be  sure 
of  earning  more  in  his  potato  and  corn  field  than 
the  best  hands  can  clear  in  sugar,  on  average  years. 
Delfino  and  I  examined  this  point  carefully,  and, 
though  we  differed  at  first,  we  both  came  at  last  pos- 
itively to  this  conclusion. 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.         261 


CHAPTER  XII. 


NOVEMBER. 


Finish  my  visit. — Delfino  surprises  me. — We  botli  return  to  Pa- 
lenque. — Expected  important  arrivals. — Anita. — rishing-day. — 
"Tankee  Charles,  of  Baltimore." — His  history. — American 
newspapers. — The  "Stranger's  Rest." — All  Saints'  Day. — 
Favorable  omen. — Improvise  a  bee-hive. — Arrival  of  agri- 
cultural implements. — All  grievously  disappointed. — Dishon- 
esty of  the  "house"  in  New  York. — A  warning  to  buyers. — 
Juanico  and  hia  garlic-bed. — Visit  from  Manuel,  the  carpen- 
ter.— Furniture  from  my  own  mahogany  grove. 

Resisting  my  own  inclinations,  as  well  as  Delfino's 
kind  importunities  to  prolong  my  stay  at  his  charm- 
ing plantation,  I  made  ready  to  start  for  home  at 
daybreak  the  first  morning  of  November.  There 
was  no  extra  press  of  work  before  me,  but  there 
was  a  series  of  secondary  matters  that  required  my 
attention,  each  in  its  due  order ;  and  every  man  that 
has  any  thing  whatever  to  do,  knows  how  much  he 
gains  in  ease  of  mind,  body,  and  business  by  a  stead- 


2C)2  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

fast  care  to  always  do  the  right  thing  at  the  right 
time. 

At  the  first  stir  of  the  househohl,  I  arose  and 
looked  out  iu  the  gray  of  the  morning  for  a  parting 
glance  at  the  wide  prospect  commanded  by  the  large 
window  of  my  bed-chamber.  As  my  eye  roved  in  the 
direction  of  the  "  sugar-house"  I  perceived  Isidro  lead- 
ing forward  three  saddle-horses  instead  of  the  single 
one  I  had  expected  to  see  standing  at  the  door  for  my 
use.  Delfino  stepped  out  to  meet  him,  and  as  he  did 
so  he  caught  sight  of  me,  and  instantly  his  cheerful 
voice  rang  through  the  house,  summoning  "each  and 
every  sluggard  bound  for  Palenque  to  present  him- 
self for  breakfast ;"  a  summons  I  lost  no  time  in 
answering. 

While  dispatching  our  coifee  and  omelette, 
Delfino  told  me  he  had  decided  over-night  to  go 
back  with  me,  as  he  expected  letters  by  the  Alice 
in  reply  to  some  he  had  Avritten  to  Santo  Domingo 
City,  and  that  he  also  wished  to  see  and  try  with  me 
a  mill  for  grinding  arrow-root  which  Don  Julio  had 
ordered  from  New  York. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  2G3 

Tie  had  heard  of  the  arrival  of  two  vessels  from 
New  York,  through  a  friend  from  that  city  Avho  had 
passed  by  his  house  the  day  before,  and  he  therefore 
considered  it  more  than  probable  that  the  arrow-root 
mill  might  even  then  be  on  its  way  to  Palenque. 

"And  why  did  you  not  mention  this  before?"  I 
asked,  in  surprise.  "You  know,  Delfino,  that  I 
have  a  kind  of  interest  in  this  machine,  and  that  it 
cannot  be  operated  iintil  I  set  it  up  and  teach  some 
of  Don  Julio's  men  how  to  manage  it." 

"  Precisely  for  that  reason  I  did  not  speak  of  it. 
You  would  have  shot  off  to  Palenque  Bay  at  the  first 
word,  and  I  did  not  choose  to  supply  the  powder  for 
such  a  catastrophe,"  answered  Delfino,  lightly. 
"  Julio  and  the  machine  can  wait  until  we  come,  and 
the  more  calmly,  as  neither  you  nor  Julio  have  such 
an  immensity  of  aiTow-root  but  that  you  can  get 
through  with  it  all  before  Christmas." 

"  But  we  also  want  to  apply  the  mill  to  grinding 
yuca  for  cassava  bread,  and  for  making  starch,  and 
there  is  plenty  of  that  ready  now,"  I  said. 

"  Never  mind,  we  shall  be  in  the  midst  of  it  all  in 


264  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

good  time,  especially  if  we  hurry  uj)  our  horses. 
The  Alice  will  scarcely  be  due  before  to-day,  and  by 
noon  we  will  be  ready  to  receive  her  as  she  touches 
the  landing." 

We  dispatched  our  early  breakfast,  and  were  on 
the  road  at  sunrise.  Our  ride  seaward,  with  the 
fresh  and  welcome  breeze  playing  upon  us  all  the 
way  down  the  hill-slopes  and  across  the  green  level 
of  Savana  Grande,  was  truly  delightful. 

We  were  at  the  entrance  of  the  Xew  Road,  lead- 
ing by  my  homestead  to  Palenque,  before  nine  :  and 
sending  Isidro  to  the  house  to  inform  Juanico  of  our 
arrival,  in  time,  as  Delfino  said,  "  to  warn  Anita  to 
put  forward  her  highest  compatiy  flourishes  for  din- 
ner," we  rode  leisurely  along  to  the  Bay. 

It  was  "fishing-day"  at  Palenque,  and  we  found 
half  the  men  of  the  neighborhood  there,  either  to 
help  draw  the  seine  or  to  buy  fish,  or  traffic  with 
Yankee  Charles  for  his  famoiis  "  pies,  pastry,  and 
ginger  cordial,  all  made  in  first-rate  American 
fashion." 

The  custom  of  fishing  with  the  seine  on  a  fixed 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  265 

day  of  the  week,  and  the  establishment  of  Yankee 
Charles's  house  of  entertainment,  are  both  excellent 
institutions,  and  both  have  grown  out  of  the  open- 
ing of  a  direct  cross-road  from  the  great  high- 
way of  the  savannas  to  Port  Palenque — now  much 
used — in  connection  with  the  regular  trips  of 
the  coasting-sloop  Alice. 

Many  other  coasters,  and  occasionally  some  larger 
craft  from  foreign  ports,  visit  Palenque,  and  have 
done  so  for  years,  to  take  on  board  the  freights  of 
precious  woods  which  are  sent  here  to  be  shipped  ; 
but  until  the  Alice  became  a  regular  trader,  and 
could  be  relied  on  as  a  kind  of  express-boat  to  carry, 
at  sure  intervals,  the  lighter  articles  of  home  produc- 
tion and  home  necessity,  no  one  about  Palenque 
thought  of  raising  any  such  small  matter  as  a  little 
corn  or  cassava  for  the  Santo  Domingo  market. 

Captain  Ramirez  opened  this  small  but  convenient 

boat-trade  by  coming  regularly  for  my  garden-stuff, 

together  with  any  odd  lots  of  satin-wood,  or  other 

chance  freights  that  might  offer  in  those  intervals 

when  the  large  planters  and  rich  forest-owners  had 
12 


266  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

no  employment  for  him.  The  workuig  j^eople  on  the 
prairies  have  availed  themselves  of  this  certainty  of 
reaching  a  good  market  in  Santo  Domingo  City,  and 
getting  hack  what  they  wanted  throiigli  .-m  intelligent 
trader  like  Ramirez,  and  they  begin  to  learn  the  con- 
venience of  a  good  road  for  the  conveyance  of  their 
stuff  to  and  from  the  landing. 

After  this  discovery  on  their  part,  I  had  but  to  set 
the  day  and  lead  the  work,  to  insure  a  general  meet- 
ing for  road-making,  whenever  it  was  necessary  to 
call  the  neighbors  together  for  tlie  purpose. 

Keither  were  the  great  land-owners,  whose  do- 
mains touched  the  Bay,  backward  in  sending  men 
and  teams  to  assist  in  rejjairing  the  road,  after  it 
became  clear  to  them  that  this  assistance  was  not 
thrown  away.  They  .saw  that  it  was  in  effect  a  real 
enhancement  to  their  broad  but  roadless  and  miculti- 
vated  estates,  and  some  of  them  are  now  my  fast 
friends  and  liberal  encouragers  in  these  local  im- 
provements. 

One  day  there  dropped  down  on  the  margin  of 
Palenque  Bay,  how  or  from  where  I  scarcely  know, 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  267 

tlie  keenest  and  readiest  of  Baltimore  ship-stewards, 
in  search  of  employment.  He  drifted  in,  like  a  Avaif 
of  the  sea,  fi'om  a  coasting  craft,  hut  was  so  taken 
with  the  beauties  of  the  place,  or  with  those  of  a 
dark  damsel  of  the  savanna,  that  he  resolved  to 
anchor  there  for  life.  He  obtained  permission  to  put 
up  a  cottage  and  fence  in  a  snug  garden  at  a  low 
ground-rent,  and  took  to  himself  the  tidy  little 
prairie- girl  for  a  wife. 

The  pair  soon  became  well  known,  and  general 
favorites  throughout  the  neighborhood. 

Their  neat  cottage,  in  which  the  town  proprietors, 
wood  shippers,  and  coasting  captains  were  certain 
to  find  cleanly  and  comfortable  entertainment,  en- 
larged itself  into  a  tiencla,  at  which  fine  wheaten 
rolls,  nice  cakes,  and  a  superior  cup  of  coffee  were 
always  to  be  had,  witli  the  addition  of  a  plate  of 
unrivalled  fish-stew  on  the  weekly  "  seine  hauling." 

Yankee  Charles  has  made  that  day  as  gay  and 
busy  as  a  fair  in  Europe,  by  the  variety  and  ex- 
cellence of  his  accommodations,  and  people  of  all 
classes  flock  in  to  see  the  sport,  and  enjoy  the  splen- 


268  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

did  sea-bathing,  and  they  often  wind  up  with  a 
lively  dance  in  the  evening. 

Delfino  and  I  rode  up  to  his  door  without  the 
intention  of  dismounting,  but  Churles  met  us,  c;ip 
in  hand,  with  such  a  polite  invitation  to  come  in  and 
"  try  an  oyster  patty  of  American  make,"  that  we 
could  do  no  less  than  accept  it. 

I  had  heard  of  oysters  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Nizao, 
but  had  never  seen  any,  and  was  in  truth  rather 
doubtful  of  their  existence  until  Charles  set  the 
veritable  article  before  us.  He  conducted  us  to  a 
new  building  which  he  had  just  erected  in  his 
garden,  and  which  fronted  the  sea,  "  where,"  he 
said,  "gentlemen  could  be  private  and  read  the 
papers,  while  he  prei:»ared  any  delicacy  of  the 
season  they  might  choose  to  order." 

This  last  crowning  touch  of  civilization  overcame 
Delfino,  and  he  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair  for 
a  long,  hearty  laugh,  while  Charles,  at  my  request, 
produced  his  "  latest  American  papers." 

With  a  smile  of  calm  triumph  he  laid  before  us 
a    respectable   lot  of  tho  weekly  Herald^   Sun^  and 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  269 

Sunday  Dispatch^  not  very  old,  or,  to  express  it  with 
due  fairness,  quite  recent  iu  date,  considering  where 
we  were.  They  were,  at  least,  the  latest  I  had  seen, 
and  I  was  soon  busied  in  them  to  the  neglect  of 
the  oyster  patties  and  the  other  "  delicacies,"  which 
Charles  had  laid  so  neatly  before  us.  Ramirez 
brings  me  papers  as  they  arrive  from  the  States  or 
St.  Thomas,  and  Charles  has  made  interest  with 
him  to  obtain  from  the  servants  of  the  British  and 
American  Consulates  all  the  spare  newspapers  as 
fast  as  their  masters  have  done  with  them.  He 
informed  us  that  he  subscribed  himself  for  a  Spanish 
literary  monthly  and  the  Santo  Domingo  Gazette, 
and  these  he  respectfully  proffered  to  Delfino. 

Verily,  none  but  a  man  trained  in  the  school  of 
Yankee  enterprise  would  have  attempted,  or  could 
have  succeeded,  in  establishing  such  a  "Stranger's 
Rest"  as  this  colored  Charles  has  built  up  on  the 
shores  of  this  dehghtful  \)^y. 

I  feel  a  sympathy  with  his  labors  and  successes, 
for  they  are  not  unlike  my  own  single-handed  battle, 
and,  as  in  my  case,  his  steady,  earnest  struggles  for  a 


270  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

sure  resting-place  have  "won  liim  n,  pleasant  and 
permanent  homestead. 

We  lingered  an  hour  over  the  "  latest  papers"  and 
"oyster  patties,"  and  then,  -nnth  one  last  sweeping, 
lingering  scrutiny  seaward,  in  the  hope  of  detecting 
the  sails  of  the  Alice  in  the  distance,  we  mounted  our 
horses  and  rode  rapidly  home.  Juanico  was  watch- 
ing for  us  at  the  gate,  and  his  whole  face  lighted  up 
with  honest  joy  at  seeing  us  ride  in,  j^raising  the 
order  and  freshness  that  reigned  over  the  scene. 

We  gave  our  horses  to  Juanico  and  walked  to  tlie 
cottage  through  the  fruit-grove,  gathering  as  we  went 
a  few  limes  and  an  enormous  "  soursop,"  for  our  din- 
ner beverage.  Here  a  stai'tling  surprise  arrested  me. 
As  I  reached  up  to  seize  a  branch,  in  order  to  bring  the 
fruit  within  grasj).  I  observed  a  swarm  of  bees  clus- 
tered on  a  limb  above  it,  and  hastily  called  to  Delfino 
for  instructions.  He  has  scores  of  hives  on  his  planta- 
tion, and  takes  much  interest  in  the  management  of 
bees,  but  I  had  no  idea  he  was  such  a  practical  adept. 

He  sent  me  Avith  orders  to  the  old  cabin,  where, 
laying  hands  on  an  empty  half-barrel,  for  I  had  no 


Life     in     St,    Domingo.  271 

box,  or  bits  of  bonrtl,  to  tui'n  into  a  more  regular 
hive,  I  bored  fonr  holes  in  the  sides  with  the  inch- 
bit,  and  i^assed  through,  and  across  each  other,  a  cou- 
ple of  sticks  from  the  nearest  bush,  wedged  them  in 
place,  and  carried  this  extemporized  hive  to  Delfino 
under  the  tree.  Meanwhile  he  had  spread  under  it  a 
table-cloth,  which  he  had  snatched  from  Anita's  hands 
as  she  was  about  arranging  for  dinner,  and  was  brush- 
ing the  bees  dov/n  upon  it  when  I  joined  him.  He 
had  nothing  over  his  face  or  on  his  hands,  as  he  stood 
looking  up  at  the  broken  and  confused  swarm,  while 
he  boldly  brushed  down  the  divided  clusters.  He 
laughed  at  my  timidity,  as  I  stood  hesitating  at  a 
distance,  and  taking  the  barrel  from  my  irresolute 
hands  he  laid  it  on  the  cloth,  and  continued  driving 
the  bees  into  it  with  a  leafy  twig  until  the  main  body 
had  actually  entered. 

"The  queen-bee  has  gone  in,  and  her  subjects  are 
quietly  exploring  their  new  realm,"  said  Delfino,  peer- 
ing into  the  capacious  hive.  "  We  may  leave  them 
now  to  make  up  their  minds  about  settling  in  it,  and 
go  to  dinner.     Anita  will  have  to  find  another  table- 


272  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

cloth,  however,  for  this  must  remain  where  it  is  until 
dark,  when  we  can  move  the  hive  to  its  place." 

Anita  disposed  of  the  question  of  table-cloth  without 
difficulty,  and  she  prophesied  no  end  to  the  good  for- 
tune which  an  early  swarm  of  bees,  a  swarm  present- 
ed to  me  on  All  Saints'  day,  is  infallibly  to  bring  to 
my  house.  May  her  words  prove  true !  I  am  not 
sanguine,  though,  on  the  subject  of  bees  and  honey, 
for  I  have  no  experience  in  bee-culture,  but  I  shall 
manage  my  unexpected  prize  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 

In  the  afternoon  I  fitted  up  a  bee-bench  vmder  the 
interlocking  canopy  of  the  old  coffee-trees  beyond 
the  spring,  and  at  dark  Juanico,  who  I  find  has  a 
perfect  knowledge  of  bee  husbandry,  conveyed  the 
barrel  to  its  place.  The  busy  tribe  settled  down  to 
work,  and  in  three  weeks  had  nearly  filled  the  upper 
third  of  their  strange  hive  with  clear,  beautiful 
comb. 

I  have  only  looked  at  them  this  once,  but  I  am 
getting  up  a  decent  stock  of  courage  to  encounter 
the  first  young  swarm  they  may  send  out. 

In  this  country,  as  almost   everywhere  in  tropical 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  273 

America,  the  bees  have  two  seasons  in  the  year  in- 
stead of  otie,  as  at  the  North.  In  the  early  spring 
they  lay  np  large  quantities  of  honey,  and  swarm 
freely  in  May  and  June.  Then  they  rest  awhile 
from  their  labors,  but  resume  them  again  in  August. 
This  second  term  of  honey  is,  I  am  told,  inferior 
to  that  of  the  spring  season,  but  in  November  and 
December  most  of  the  swarms  throw  out  two  or 
three  new  ones  ;  the  young  swarms  of  May  and  June 
vying  with  the  older  ones  in  the  number  and  \\gov  of 
their  colonies.  Sometimes  the  winter  swarming  closes 
in  January,  and  the  bees  take  another  period  of  rest 
during  the  balance  of  the  dry  season.  They  do  not  fail, 
however,  to  lay  up  more  or  less  honey,  and  with  the 
spring  rains  they  recommence  again. 

Mine  of  the  first  of  November  were  rather  early  in 
the  season,  but  it  is  by  no  means  a  remarkable 
case.  There  is  always  some  swarming  eai'Iy  in  No- 
vember, though  not  on  the  extensive  and  prolific 
scale  generally  witnessed  later  in  the  month  and 
throughout  December. 

This  much  for  the  bees,  every  word  of  which  is, 
12* 


2T4         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

however,  borrowed  from  the  hps  of  my  friend  Del- 
fino,  who  promised,  moreover,  to  instruct  me  in  the 
art  of  making  a  medicinal  cordial  from  honey  and 
fresh  ginger.  How  valuable  it  may  be  as  a  medicine, 
I  cannot  attest,  but  to  its  merits  as  a  jjleasant  and 
palatable  cordial  I  can  bear  witness,  for  I  enjoyed  it 
with  uncommon  zest  while  at  his  plantation. 

The  Alice  came  in  late  at  night,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing we  went  in  force  to  the  landing  to  take  charge  of 
the  long-expected  arrow-root  mill.  Don  Julio  met 
lis  there,  as  impatient  as  ourselves  to  see  it  in  oper- 
ation. 

I  was  vexed  to  see  that  it  had  been  shijDped  in  a 
shameftilly  careless  manner  by  the  ISTew  York  agri- 
cultural-warehouse firm,  and  I  would  fiiin  publish  the 
name  of  this  concern,  that  others  may  learn  not  to 
trust  its  guaranties^  when  they  boastfully  announce, 
"  that  whoever  orders  any  thing  from  their  house  may 
depend  upon  the  superior  quality  of  the  articles,  and 
also  on  the  greatest  care  being  taken  to  pack  them 
suitably  for  transportation." 

The  mill  for  "grinding  arrow-root,  ynca,  and  other 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  275 

bulbous  roots,"  v/as  in  every  respect  a  failure  and  a 
deceit,  nor  was  it  alone  in  this  that  we  were  dis- 
appointed. 

A  honey-press  that  came  out  with  it  for  Don  Julio, 
was  so  badly  made  that  it  broke  the  first  day  it 
was  used,  and  was  hopelessly  past  all  service  in  a 
fortnight. 

HujDpily  for  us,  we  were  ignorant  of  the  svorst  dis- 
appointments in  store  for  us  when  we  all  met  that 
morning  at  the  Palenque  landing,  to  welcome  tlie  first 
machines  of  their  class  ever  seen  in  that  district. 

Reports  had  crept  abroad  that  Don  Julio  and  I  had 
ordered  from  the  North  some  mdquinas  of  extraordi- 
nary power  for  grating  yuca,  and  the  whole  popula- 
tion was  on  the  qui  viue,  for  that  is  a  subject  of 
universal  interest  here. 

Yuca,  grated  very  fine  and  thrown  into  water,  set- 
tles at  the  bottom  in  a  delicate  flour  which  the  na- 
tives bake  into  the  thin  cakes,  called  cassava,  of  which 
I  have  already  spoken.  This  is  the  common  bread  of 
the  country,  and  at  present  the  grating  is  always 
done  by  hand  ;   a  slow,  hard,   unsatisfactory  process 


276  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

for  the  Avomen,  on  whom  the  labor  chiefly  falls.  The 
plough,  the  weeder,  the  scythe,  and  the  stump-ex- 
tractor had  created  grand  sensations,  but  the  mdqui- 
na  that  was  "  to  do  in  one  day  the  work  of  twenty 
women  for  a  week,"  would  eclipse  all  its  predeces- 
sors, and  there  was  a  general  voice  of  supplication 
from  both  sexes  to  see  it  set  in  operation  at  the  ear- 
liest moment. 

It  was  transj^orted  at  once  to  Don  Julio's  place, 
with  all  its  belongings,  and  set  up  in  the  room  previ- 
ously prepared  for  it.  We  had  the  intention  of  prac- 
tising it  a  day  or  two  before  the  public  were  admit- 
ted ;  but  it  was  impossible  to  exclude  a  real  mob  of 
the  curious  "  personal  friends"  of  Don  Julio.  They 
would  press  into  the  room  with  troublesome  proflers 
of  help,  or  stand  about  in  everybody's  way  while 
we  were  getting  it  in  gear. 

The  first  handful  of  yuca  that  was  thrown  into  the 
hopper  came  out  in  coarse,  half-ground  "chunks," 
good  for  nothing  but  to  send  to  the  pigs.  I  set  the 
mill  to  its  finest  capacity,  but  it  turned  out  nothing 
that  answered  the  splendid  promises  of  the  agricul- 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  277 

tural  house  on  whose  recommendation  and  guarantee 
it  had  been  bought.  We  tried  young  arrow-root, 
hoping  that  the  tender  bulbs  would  yield  us  a  more 
encouraging  show,  but  all  in  vain.  We  tried  all 
things  in  all  ways,  over  and  over  again,  until  we  were 
forced  to  give  up  the  mill  as  a  false  pretence.  I 
wasted  an  anxious,  laborious  week  on  it,  in  the  vain 
hope  that  in  some  shape  it  could  be  made  serviceable, 
but  there  was  no  good  in  it.- 

The  poor  neighbors  felt  the  disappointment  keen- 
ly, for  they  knew  it  was  bought  more  for  their  use 
and  instruction  than  for  Don  Julio's  profit.  He  felt 
the  annoyance  of  such  a  public  failure  far  more  than 
the  loss  of  the  money,  and  I  felt  it  most  deeply  of  all, 
perhaps,  because  it  was  ordered  at  my  urgent  recom- 
mendation, and  I  had  rashly  advised  him  to  send  for 
it  on  the  statement  of  an  agent  of  the  house  that  this 
mill  is  like  those  used  in  the  manufacture  of  the  Ber- 
muda arrow-root,  which  is  simply  a  deliberate  false- 
hood. 

While  I  was  at  work  at  the  mill,  Juanico  had  to 
manage   the   homestead   as  best  he  could,  but  the 


27S  Life    in     S  t .    Domingo. 

faithful  fellow  went  on  diligently,  and  when  I  return- 
ed home  late  on  Saturday  night,  sufficiently  tired  and 
disheartened,  his  warm  welcome  and  jrileasant  account 
of  home  progress  restored  me  to  myself.  Yet  it  re- 
quired the  lapse  of  one  day  of  profound  rest — the 
blessed,  care-forgetting  Sabbath,  to  wear  off  my  mor- 
tification and  bring  me  in  trim  for  my  homestead 
duties,  and  enable  me  to  return  with  a  cheerful 
spii-it  to  my  crops. 

The  November  returns  are  not  immense,  but  there 
are  two  hundred  dollars  for  my  corn  from  the  ISTew 
Field,  with  the  likelihood  of  as  much  more  in  De- 
cember from  my  other  crops.  I  have  to  pay  some- 
thing for  extra  labor,  but  not  much  of  it  out  of  these 
field-crops.  My  garden  beans,  melons,  onions,  and 
other  stuff,  continue  to  return  me  nearly  enough  to 
meet  my  current  expenses. 

I  had  given  Juanico,  at  his  own  request,  the  entire 
charge  of  a  frightfully  large  garHc-bed,  and  he  has 
tended  it  with  such  assiduity,  that  I  have  resolved  to 
make  over  to  him,  for  the  purchase  of  a  Christmas 
suit,  that  great  pile  of  it  which  he  is  braiding  into 


Life     in     St.    Domingo,  279 

ristas,  while  I  am  writing.  He  is  seated  at  the  end 
of  the  garden  walk,  on  guard  over  a  grand  heap  of 
vegetahles,  the  produce  of  our  joint  labors,  and  he 
eyes  them  from  time  to  time  with  a  loving  glance 
while  waiting  for  Captain  Ramirez  to  call  for  them. 
He  breaks  into  a  whistle  now  and  then  as  he  braids 
his  garlic  tops,  but  always  very  softly,  for  fear  of  dis- 
turbing my  occujjation  at  the  table,  drawn  outside 
the  cottage  door. 

We  have  just  set  out  most  of  our  seedling  plants, 
and  my  "Winter  Garden  is  stocked  with  young  vege- 
tables to  begin  the  coming  year.  The  rainy  season 
is  drawing  to  a  close,  and  our  work  for  this  year  is 
nearly  done.  To-morrow  is  Sunday,  and  the  day 
after  begins  the  holiday  month  of  December,  and  I 
propose  to  commence  it  auspiciously  by  surprising 
Juanico  with  the  wherewith  for  his  Christmas  outfit. 

Last  night  Manuel,  the  carpenter,  called  for  tlie 
money  for  making  the  doors  and  shutters  of  my  cot- 
tage. I  lived  without  them  some  months,  but  Avhen 
I  was  so  far  prospered  that  I  had  means  to  spare, 
after  buying  a  stout  mule  and  a  pair  of  young  cows. 


2S0  Life     ix     St.    Domingo. 

I  engaged  him  to  finish  off  my  house.  It  was  com- 
pleted ten  days  ago,  but  since  then  he  has  made  me 
a  lounge  and  wardrobe  of  mahogany  from  my  own 
ground,  and  now  our  simple  home  is  ready  for  the 
dear  friends  for  whose  sake,  not  less  than  my  own,  I 
have  been  struggling  to  win  a  settled  abiding-place. 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  281 


CHAPTER  Xin. 


DECEMBER, 


The  ripening  corn. — Hoe-husbandry. — Unbroken  succession  of 
crops. — Plans  for  the  future. — Affectionate  fidehty  of  Juanico. — 
Attempt  to  finish  my  cottage. — Dishonest  mason. — Un- 
looked  for  disappointment. — What  I  resolve  to  do. — Juauico's 
proposition. — FeUx  comes  to  my  relief — The  lime-burner. — 
Cottage  finished. — Delfino  appears  suddenly. — What  he  insists 
on. — Preparations  for  a  Christmas-tree. — Everybody  to  be  ui- 
vited. — Site  selected. — The  compunj-  assemble. — We  celebrate 
Christmas  joyously. 

October,  November,  and  December  are  much  the 
same  thing  in  the  records  of  a  small  Dominican 
homestead.  The  corn  ripens  in  one  or  the  other 
of  these  months,  according  as  it  is  planted  in  July, 
August,  or  September. 

I  have  but  little  to  harvest  this  month,  and  not  a 
great  deal  to  plant.  The  ground  assigned  to  my 
cocoa-nut  grove  was  intended  for  a  planting  of  pole- 
beans,  and  the  original  plan  was  in  some  degree  car- 


282  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

vied  out  immediately  on  my  return  from  Delfino's 
sugar  plantation  on  the  first  of  November.  Between 
the  lines  of  young  cocoas,  the  ground  is  covered 
with  long  rows  of  bean-vines,  whose  fruit  is  destined 
for  the  Santo  Doiningo  raai-ket,  through  the  dry 
months  of  January,  February,  and  March.  The  Oc- 
tober and  November  plantings  yield  less  foliage  and 
come  more  slowly  to  maturity  than  those  made  in 
the  pushing  vigor  of  the  three  suminer  months ; 
but  with  deep  ploughing  and  one  careful  cleansing 
"with  the  donkey-cultivator  in  the  first  weeks  after 
they  are  above  ground,  corn,  beans,  and  so  forth,  will 
return  fair  crops,  and  they  have  the  advantage  of 
coming  into  market  in  the  season  of  no  rains  and 
high  prices. 

In  this  particular,  the  system  of  plough-culture 
produces  a  fabulous  profit,  while  the  shallow  native 
hoe-husbandry  returns  notlung  but  a  loss.  Hoe- 
husbandry  does  not  go  deep  enough  to  carry  the  ten- 
der, thirsting  rootlets  down  to  a  moist  bed,  and  the 
plant  dries  up  and  dies  out  in  the  long  succession  of 
sunny,   rainless    days.     The    plough   and  cultivator 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  283 

supply  this  vital  necessity  of  moisture  to  the  growing 
cvop.  Tliey  loosen  the  earth  so  as  to  enable  it  to 
driulv  in  the  heavy  dews,  and  permit  the  searching 
rootlets  to  penetrate  to  the  cool  dampness  of  the  sub- 
soil, while  the  uprising  of  a  gentle  vapor,  that  is  con- 
stantly disposed  to  ascend  from  a  considerable  depth, 
refreshes  as  with  a  bath  the  spreading  fibres  that  are 
exjiloring  the  earth  for  this  watery  aliment. 

While  the  hard,  untilled,  and  consequently  sun- 
scorched  native  fields  around  Palenque  are  being- 
given  up  for  the  season,  as  too  late  for  successful 
planting  this  fall,  my  ploughed  land  is  covered,  this 
last  week  of  December,  with  crops  of  corn  ripening 
for  sale  next  month,  and  with  patches  of  beans  in 
every  stage,  from  flowering  to  ripeness,  with  a  prom- 
ise of  a  continuous  supply  for  the  next  two  months. 

I  have  aimed  at  a  succession  of  crops,  and,  inclu- 
ding garden  vegetables,  I  have  not  failed  in  having 
something  to  sell  from  May  to  December. 

With  me  it  was  an  urgent  necessity  to  obtain  the 
quickest  and  closest  series  of  vegetables  and  bread- 
stufis  Avhioh  this  genial  climate  will  produce  ;  but  on 


284  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

reviewing  the  year's  work,  raonth  by  month,  I 
cannot  but  think  that  every  planter,  large  or  small, 
will  find  it  more  profitable,  as  well  as  more  comfortable 
and  independent,  to  give  a  wider  range  to  his  usual 
planting  list,  and  devote  somewhat  more  attention  to 
raising  within  his  own  limits,  all  that  is  required 
for  the  consumption  of  his  own  homestead. 

Coffee.,  sugar ^  rice,  and  cotton  are  precious  staples, 
and  make  such  brilliant  returns  that  they  dazzle  the 
great  proprietors,  and  wholly  divert  their  attention 
from  the  sure  and  steady,  though  unpretending, 
profits  of  those  crops  that  form  the  daily  food  of 
all  classes. 

Men  must  eat  of  many  things  besides  sugar,  cofiee, 
and  rice,  and  they  must  pay  a  fair  price  for  them.  The 
simi^le  and  inevitable  result  of  this  fact,  as  I  have 
fully  realized,  is,  that  whoever  chooses  to  raise  food 
in  this  country  may  rely  on  a  good  demand  and 
remunerative  prices.  The  rich  planters  wiU  not 
compete  with  him,  because  their  thoughts  and  means 
are  concentrated  on  the  great  staples  for  exj^ort ;  and 
the   others  cannot,  for  the  small    native  farms  are 


Life    in     St.    Domingo.  285 

tilled  under  such  a  wretched,  profitless  system,  and 
their  owners  are  so  trained  to  it,  that  they  would 
have  to  be  born  again  and  live  a  new  life  before 
they  could  be  taught  to  understand  the  labor-saving 
appliances  of  good  husbandry. 

In  this  climate  of  incessant  production,  every 
month  ought  to  be  made  to  bring  with  it  some 
gainful  harvest  of  fruit,  vegetable,  or  breadstuff. 
From  April  to  November  the  farmer  can  go  on  with 
a  steady  succession  of  i)lantings,  and  after  the  first 
year  it  will  be  his  own  fault  if  he  does  not  have  an 
equally  steady  succession  of  harvestings.  This  has 
been  my  experience.  As  I  cleared  the  ground  of 
the  crops  put  in  it  duiing  the  early  rains  in  April  and 
May,  I  planted  afresh  for  new  returns  in  the  dry 
months  of  the  coming  year. 

With  the  later  rains  of  October  and  November 
I  have  covered  neai'ly  every  foot  of  my  winter 
garden  with  ocra,  onions,  tomatoes,  sugar-peas, 
radishes — in  a  word,  with  the  round  list  of  vegetables 
with  which  I  started  my  seedling  bed  in  January 
last.      These   are  now  thrifty,  well-advanced   plants, 


286  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

many  iu  tlower,  and  some  beginning  to  bear,  so  that 
tlie  coming  January  will  bo,  as  I  may  reasonably 
trust,  a  harvest  month.  My  patient  labor  has  been 
paid  by  the  rapid  advance  of  all  my  vegetables  under 
the  spring  showers,  and  their  readiness  for  early 
sale  when  the  market  was  at  its  best.  iSTow,  with  the 
advantage  of  the  fall  rains  to  give  it  a  strong  start, 
my  winter  garden  stands  a  fair  chance  to  give  me 
thi'ce  fold  profits  with  the  same  amount  of  labor. 

My  New  Field  will  probably  give  me  a  cheering 
account  of  sweet  jjotatoes  in  February  and  March, 
of  yuca  iu  April  and  May ;  and  then  I  shall  ask  no 
more  of  it  until  I  attend  to  my  yautilia  in  August 
and  Septembei",  unless,  indeed,  I  plant  early  corn  in 
the  cocoa-nut  grove.  It  is  now  ready  for  Jan- 
uary, to  gather  iu  weekly  supplies  of  lima-beans 
for  Captain  Ramirez.  Should  I  plant  that  space  iu 
corn  with  the  first  rains  next  Spring,  as  Don  Julio 
advises,  it  ought  to  supply  the  housewives  of  Santo 
Domingo  City  with  young  corn  for  arapa  in  Jvme 
and  July,  and  thus  keep  up  a  regular  course  of 
crops  and  eraploymeut  from  January  to  September. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  287 

^  After  these  will  present  themselves,  one  after  tlie 
other,  m  October,  Novemher,  aucl  December,  the 
spring  and  summer  planted  crops,  and  so  complete 
the  circle  of  monthly  harvests  for  the  entire  year. 

I  believe  I  can  rely  on  Juanico  and  the  winter  gar- 
den for  the  support  of  the  house,  including  his  own 
wages  and  those  of  one  or  two  men  a  part  of  the 
thne. 

Juanico  himself  is  henceforth  to  be  counted  a  fix- 
ture of  the  homestead.  In  squaring  our  accounts,  he 
supplicated  me  not  to  speak  of  formal  wages,  but  to 
keep  him  always  by  me,  and  to  take  care  of  him  as 
long  as  he  lives.  He  is  the  most  patiently  industri- 
ous Dominican  I  have  yet  seen,  and  by  no  means 
wanting  in  the  capacity  to  learn  and  appreciate  the 
use  of  improved  implements  of  agriculture.  His 
nature  is  single-minded,  docile,  and  faithfully  affec- 
tionate, and  he  is  prized  by  me  i'ather  as  an  humble 
friend  than  a  paid  servant.  This,  however,  does  not 
change  my  resolution  to  give  him  the  usual  Domiuicau 
wages ;  three  dollars  a  week  to  men  who  live  in  the 
house.     Beyond  that,  I  consider  from  time  to  tune 


2SS  L  I  F  K      IN      S  T .      D 


O  M  I  N  G  O 


his  little  extra  personal  wants,  and  take  care  of  them 
as  liberally  as  my  means  will  admit,  if  only  to  mani- 
fest my  sense  of  the  value  of  his  services. 

In  the  first  half  of  December  we  set  ourselves 
zealously  at  the  work  of  plastering  and  whitewashing 
our  palenca  walls.  There  was  some  trouble  about 
the  lime,  as  well  as  with  the  native  mason  who  had 
contracted  to  supply  it  and  do  the  plastering.  After 
the  prices  were  arrauged,  and  the  day  fixed  for  be- 
ginning, he  changed  his  mind,  and  refused  to  under- 
take the  job  unless  I  would  jDromise  to  add  another  five 
dollars  to  the  sum  first  agreed  on,  twenty  dollars, 
and  advance  him  ten  dollars  "  to  pay  a  debt  that 
troubled"  him.  Here  was  a  dilemma.  Twenty  dollars 
Avas  the  full  value  of  the  work,  and  I  dislike  to  yield 
to  unjust  and  arbitrary  demands ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  have  the  house 
finished,  and  all  tiie  rubbish  cleared  up  before  Christ- 
mas, for  Delfino  had  written  to  say  that  he  would  be 
with  us  on  Christinas  Eve,  and  he  particularly  claimed 
"  a  week  of  free  and  perfect  holiday,  at  the  close  of 
my  first  year's  trial  of  life  in  Santo  Domingo^ 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.         289 

The  mason  called  in  person  to  inform  me  of  his 
rise  in  price,  and  to  take  home  with  him  the  ten  dol- 
lars advance,  for  it  did  not  occur  to  him  that  I  had 
any  choice  in  the  matter.  I  had  stipulated  so  strongly 
to  have  the  work  completed  at  least  ten  days  before 
Christmas,  that  he  evidently  supposed  I  would  sub- 
mit to  any  exaction  rather  than  be  disappointed.  lie 
was  the  only  mason  within  five  miles,  and  the  only 
lime-burner  was  his  own  cousin,  and,  for  aught  I 
knew,  this  cousin  might  refuse  to  sell  me  the  lime  I 
needed.  The  exceeding  desire  I  felt  to  have  my 
cottage  plastered  and  regulated  before  the  close  of 
the  year,  caitsed  me  to  waver  a  moment.  As  I  looked 
up  with  the  intention  of  oifering  to  "  split  the  differ- 
ence," I  caught  such  a  leer  of  triumph  in  the  fellow's 
eye,  that  I  instantly  resolved  to  have  nothmg  more 
to  do  with  him. 

"  As   you   find  the  bargain  we  made  so  much    to 

your  disadvantnge,  I  will  let  the  house  stand  as  it 

is  for  the  present,"  I  said,  composedly.    "The  weather 

is  now  settled,  and  I  can  do  very  well  in  it  for  the 

four  months  of  the  dry  season,  since  it  has  answered 
13 


290  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

perfectly  through  all  our  rains.  Consider  our  engage- 
ments, therefore,  absolutely  at  an  end." 

Tlie  man  was  taken  aback ;  I  saw  that  at  a  glance, 
and  this  quite  reconciled  ine  to  my  own  disappoint- 
ment. 

"  But  about  the  lime,  Seiior  ?  That  must  be  taken, 
for  it  is  engaged,"  he  observed,  after  a  few  minutes 
of  awkward  silence.  "I  bespote  it  on  my  own  re- 
sponsibility for  this  particulra'  work.  Two  cargoes  of 
lime  are  to  be  delivered  here  this  very  day,  at  a  dol- 
lar a  barrel,  and  my  cousin  expects  the  money  for  it 
fVom  your  hand."  He  paused  and  looked  at  me  for 
an  answer,  but  I  did  not  speak.  I  was  reflecting  on 
the  "  situation." 

"  You  consented  to  that  and  to  the  price,"  contin- 
ued he,  in  an  insolent  tone. 

"  Certainly  I  did,  but  it  was  a  part  of  my  arrange- 
ment with  you,"  I  answered  ;  my  own  temper  calm- 
ing in  proportion  as  his  rose.  "  You  do  not  choose  to 
abide  by  the  rest  of  the  bargain,  and  of  course  I  shall 
not  take  the  lime." 

There  was  another  pause,  which  the  mason  at  length 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  291 

broke  by  proposing  to  abate  two  dollars  from  his 
price,  if  I  would  advance  the  ten  dollars  and  receive 
and  pay  for  the  lime  when  it  came. 

"  The  exact  bargain,  or  nothing.  No  advance,  and 
half  a  dollar  deducted  for  every  day  the  woi-k  is  de- 
layed beyond  the  time  named  for  its  completion,"  I 
answered,  decidedly. 

"  No  money  until  all  the  work  is  done  ?"  interro- 
gated the  man,  in  a  tone  of  surpiise,  as  if  that  was  a 
new  condition,  though  it  had  been  made  a  leading 
stipulation,  because  I  had  been  told  that  there  is  no 
other  way  of  getting  these  people  to  keeji  on  witn 
their  work  until  it  is  completed. 

"  No  payment  for  my  work  until  it  is  every  bit 
finished  ?"  repeated  the  mail,  in  an  injured,  querulous 
tone. 

"  No.'' 

"  Then,  I  must  warn  the  Seiior  that  no  Dominican 
can  be  found  who  will  work  for  him.     Adlos  /'"' 

Away  he  went,  in  a  state  of  high  fermentation  at 
the  general  upsetting  of  his  plans. 

I  too  had  my  own  feelins:  of  discomfort  at  this  mis- 


292  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

understanding.  It  Is  the  first  I  have  had  in  this 
country,  and  I  ^vould  gladly  hope  it  may  be  the  last, 
but  I  could  not  consent  to  yield  to  these  petty  extor- 
tions ;  I  would  sooner  let  the  cottage  wait  a  year. 

But  it  did  not  have  to  wait  a  day.  "WTien  I  rejoin- 
ed Juanico  at  our  work  on  the  Winter  Garden,  I 
dropped  a  word  or  two  of  regret  that  the  cottage 
should  remain  implastered  for  months  to  come,  and 
not  be  put  in  the  condition  to  receive  Don  Delfino 
which  we  had  anticipated. 

"  If  you  wish  the  work  done,  SeSor,  I  will  go  over 
to  Nizao  and  capture  another  mason  directly,"  said 
Juanico,  quietly,  without  raising  his  eyes  from  his  to- 
mato gathering,  or  relaxing  the  speed  of  his  busy 
hands. 

"  Do  you  really  think  you  can  find  a  mason  at 
Nizao,  Juanico  ?" 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,  Senor  ;  but  if  I  fiil  there, 
I  will  step  over  to  Bani  {the  stej)  to  Bani  is  only  four- 
teen miles)  and  bring  jon  Felix,"  replied  Juanico, 
this  time  looking  up  eagerly  and  speaking  with  ani- 
mation. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  293 

"  Is  Felix  a  mason,  then  ?" 

"  Si  Seiior.  Ilis  father  was  the  best  mason  in  this 
])art  of  the  comitry,  and  Fehx  worked  with  him  un- 
til he  died,  three  or  four  years  ago.  After  tliat,  Fe- 
hx left  his  trade  because  he  liked  farming  better. 
But  he  wUl  come  to  you  flying  when  he  knows  you 
need  his  services." 

"I  would  be  truly  glad  to  have  him,  and  you  may 
take  the  mule  and  ride  over  to  Bani  as  soon  as  you 
like,  Juanico,  to  propose  it  to  him,  and  to  inquire  how 
we  are  to  get  the  necessary  lime." 

"  As  to  the  lime,  it  has  settled  itself,"  said  Juan- 
ico, putting  down  his  tomato  basket  and  starting 
towards  the  New  Road.  "  Somebody  is  calling  at 
the  gate,  and  I  can  see  from  here  two  donkeys  with 
white  loads." 

Juanico  had  hit  the  truth,  and  he  and  the  lime- 
burner  had  a  long  parley,  which  I  was  not  yluw 
to  conjecture  was  about  the  mason's  breach  of  con- 
tract. Before  they  were  through  with  it,  Juanico 
had  wormed  out  of  him  that  the  lime  was  really  sold 
for  eighty  cents,  instead  of  a  dollar,  the  barrel;  and 


294  1^  I  r  E     IN     St.    Domingo. 

at  this  lower  price  the  donkeys  were  led  iu  to  dis- 
charge their  loads.  The  other  materials  were  on 
hand  and  in  their  place,  so  that  the  only  remaining 
difficulty  was  to  learn  whether  we  could  secure  a  ma- 
son in  time  to  get  through  before  Christmas. 

Juanico  rode  over  to  Bani  in  the  evening,  and  be- 
fore ten  the  next  morning  Felix  solved  the  doubt  by 
presenting  himself  with  an  assistant.  In  a  word, 
matters  were  driven  with  such  energy  that  every 
thing  was  finished,  every  sign  of  mortar  and  build- 
ing trash  cleared  oif,  outside  and  in,  and  the  cottage 
put  in  its  trimmest  order  on  the  20th,  four  full  days 
before  Christmas. 

While  we  were  in  the  midst  of  our  labors,  the  orig- 
inal contractor  sent  to  say  that,  "  not  to  fail  in  his 
word,  and  for  the  pleasure  of  obliging  a  neighbor 
like  me,  he  would  undertake  the  work  on  the  terms 
first  proposed ;  but  that  he  could  not  limit  himself  by 
a  promise  to  have  it  done  before  Cliristmas." 

I  returned  thanks  for  his  kind  intentions,  and  sent 
answer  that,  as  the  job  was  already  nearly  finished,  I 
had  no  occasion  for  his  services. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  295 

My  white  cottage  gleams  cheerfully  through  the 
green  foliage  of  the  over-arching  trees,  and  I  am  most 
happy  iu  its  possession. 

I  slept  a  week  in  the  old  cabin  while  the  plastering 
dried,  and  we  were  not  through  a  day  too  soon,  for 
Delfino — God  Mess  him  and  his  evermore — rode  in 
on  Saturday  evening,  attended  by  his  man  Isidro, 
with  a  mule-load  of  well-choseu  and  welcome  gifts. 
Always  the  same  sunbright  and  joy-giving  spirit  is 
Delfino. 

"  Ainigo  niio,  I  have  come  to  take  full  and  absolute 
possession  of  you  and  your  house,  of  your  man-ser- 
vants and  your  maid-servants,  and  of  all  that  is  vrithin 
your  gates!"  he  exclaimed,  almost  before  he  reined 
up  his  horse.  "  Let  no  one  presume  to  work  or  be 
serious  in  my  presence,  while  this  year  lasts.  Hear 
and  obey  this  edict,  all  ye  who  hope  to  live." 

"  Your  sovereign  pleasure,  great  potentate,  shall 
be  our  law  !  and  obedience  will  be  all  the  easier, 
smce  your  presence  makes  every  day  a  festival 
with  us." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  find  my  subjects  in  such  a  \m{y 


296  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

py  mood,  and  so  ^ye\\  housed  too,"  exclaimed  Deliino, 
looking  round  the  now  white  walls  of  my  cottage. 
"  I  can  scarcely  believe  this  is  our  blessed  old  home- 
stead, where  we  learned  to  plough  and  mow,  like 
real  Yankees." 

"  And  where  we  taught  the  natives  to  chop  down 
trees  with  Yankee  axes,  and  draw  out  stumps  with 
Yankee  extractors,"  I  added. 

"  Yes,  77ii  amigo,  yes.  Lo,  we  worked  like  Yan- 
kees, and  lived  like  Spartans,  and  enjoyed  ourselves 
like  Athenians.     Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  I  can  answer  for  myself,  Delfino,  that  I  have  been 
hapi^y  in  my  labors,  and  found  my  Spartan  fare  quite 
endurable  when  you  were  here  to  partake  of  it  with 
me.  Anita,  I  see,  has  prepared  something  this  even- 
ing, and  it  may  be  as  acceptable  after  your  ride  as 
we  used  to  find  it  after  our  work." 

After  supper  we  sat  awhile  in  the  soft  starlight, 
and  chatted  of  the  yeai-'s  doings,  and  of  the  result 
of  twelve  months'  experience  in  tropical  farming,  un- 
til Delfino  broke  the  chain  of  conversation  by  the  ab- 
rupt observation  : — 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  297 

"We  must  have  a  Christinfis-trec  for  all  tlie  people 
who  have  worked  with  us.  Oh,  you  need  not  ques- 
tion me  with  your  eyes,  as  if  to  ask  whether  I  have 
the  slightest  idea  what  I  am  talking  about.  We  must 
have  a  Christmas-tree,  I  say.  Not  the  artificial  in- 
door afiair  of  your  cold  northern  climate,  but  a  green, 
living,  fruit-loaded  tree,  standing  out  openly  in  the 
pleasant  air  of  our  summer  land,  only  it  must  be 
trimmed  with  garlands  and  hung  with  suitable  pres- 
ents for  those  who  have  a  claim  to  be  remembered 
by  us." 

"What  a  charming  suggestion!  I  will  do  my  ut- 
most to  help  carry  it  out." 

"  Good.  Then  we  have  only  to  select  the  place 
and  think  of  the  entertainment.  Not  one  of  those 
who  have  worked  with  us  is  to  be  omitted." 

"Right.  Every  one  of  them,  with  their  wives  and 
children,  shall  be  invited.  Juan  and  Anita  shall  take 
care  of  that." 

In  the    morning,   after    an  out-of-door  breakfast, 

under  the  close,   green  shade  of  our   favorite   fruit 

grove,   we  leisurely    made  our    rounds  and  visited 
13* 


298         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

the  successive  plantings  and  improvements  of  the 
homestead  with  loving  interest. 

The  Orange  Walk  is  still  in  its  infancy,  hnt  my 
young  grafted  trees  are  growing  thriftily  amid 
a  showy  range  of  sun-flowers,  planted  to  define 
the  line  and  i:)roTide  a  change  of  diet,  now  and 
then,  for  my  nice  brood  of  chickens. 

The  little  trees  of  the  mango  avenue  have  cotton 
plants  between  them,  but  they  are  hardly  beginning 
to  blossom  as  yet.  This  cherished  avenue  would  be 
the  least  striking  of  my  improvements,  did  not  a 
low  hedge  of  lilies  and  other  flowering  plants, 
already  rich  in  bloom,  redeem  its  present  insignifi- 
cance. 

From  that  we  passed  into  the  Xew  Field,  to  see 
the  cocoa-nut  grove  (that  is  to  be),  and  found  the 
triple  line  of  sprouts  in  fine  order.  Many  of  them 
are  three  feet  high,  and  most  of  them  are  at  least 
two  feet  above  the  ground.  They  each  received  a 
careful  hoeing  from  my  own  hands,  about  a  month  after 
they  were  planted,  and  will  require  the  same  atten- 
tion some  time  in  Fel^ruary  or  March,  and  once  again 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  299 

during  the  rainy  season,  and  this  is  all  that  is  strictly 
necessary  to  insure  the  well-being  of  these  valuable 
trees. 

The  plaiitam  walk  has  made  the  most  astonishing 
progress  of  all.  The  great  green  leaves  of  those  set 
out  in  June  now  almost  meet  overhead,  and  even 
those  planted  iu  August  are  four  and  five  feet  high. 
Delfino  says  that  seven  or  eight  months  hence  I  may 
begin  to  have  a  regular  supply  of  plantains  and 
bananas,  and  from  that  time  forward  there  will  be 
every  week  fre^h  clusters  coming  on,  iu  continually 
increased  abundance. 

Early  on  Monday  morning  we  selected  our  Christ- 
mas-tree, a  thrifty  guava,  encircled  by  other  fruit- 
trees  of  lai-ger  growth  and  denser  shade.  It  is  a  little 
beyond  the  spring,  just  where  the  sweep  of  coffee, 
wild  plum,  and  pomegranate  trees  mingle  their 
shrubby  hedge  with  the  loftier  growth  of  the  grand 
old  fruit  grove.  There  is  plenty  of  soft  grass  under 
foot  and  cool  shade  overhead.  There  is  pure  water 
close  at  hand,  and  two  limes  near  by  loaded  with 
golden  fruit,  to  make  our  cool  an  si  wholesome  bev- 


300  Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

erage.  Delfino  says  Nature  arranged  the  site 
expressly  for  the  Christmas  festivals  of  a  man  who 
is  learning  how  to  live  in  the  primitive  content  in 
which  Columbus  found  the  first  lords  of  this  lovely 
island. 

Our  preparations  were  truly  Arcadian.  The  trees 
around  supplied  the  fruits ;  our  viands  were,  to  the 
last  item,  home-grown  and  home-made,  and  our 
beverages — mead,  coffee,  lemonade,  native  wines,  and 
chocolate  at  the  close  of  the  day  (after  the  presents 
were  distributed) — were  produced,  without  a  single 
exception,  on  my  own  place,  or  brought  from  Del- 
fino's  sugar  plantation.  Yet  our  forty  guests,  men, 
women,  and  children,  found  no  lack  of  wholesome 
and  palatable  variety  at  our  rustic  banquet  beside  the 
Christmas-tree. 

Never  have  I  enjoyed  a  day  of  purer  delight  than 
this  which  I  have  passed  on  my  own  honestly  earned 
homestead,  entertaining  with  hospitable  care  those 
who,  in  direct  labor  or  neighborly  kindness,  have 
served  me  so  well  during  the  twelve  months  now 
concluded.      They  have   done   much   to   aid  me   in 


Life    in    St.    Domingo.  301 

ray  new  life,  and  I  fervently  pray  that  another 
year  may  again  gather  i;s  all  together  under  the 
richly  laden  boughs  of  our  next  Dominican  Christ- 
mas-tree. 


302         Life    in     St.    Domingo, 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

BY     WAY     OP     EXPLAXATION. 

Hundreds  of  the  working  classes  are  seeking  new 
homes  in  countries  where  intelligent  habor  can  best 
be  made  to  supply  the  want  of  capital. 

The  uuhealthiness  of  certain  commercial  sites  has 
created  a  })opular  idea,  that  all  tropical  countries 
are  necessarily  unfavorable  to  health.  This  is  a 
great  mistake ;  not  only  are  many  of  the  high  and 
well-drained  table-lands  of  the  tropics  eminently 
healthy,  but  they  are  beyond  dispute  those  regions 
in  which  men  who  know  how  to  work  with  the  best 
implements  of  agriculture,  and  who  have  the  will  to 
use  ihem,  are  most  certain  to  achieve  an  early  inde- 
pendence. 

In  these  favored  regions  of  perpetual  production,  a 
man  works  only  for  his  own  profit  and  the  embellish- 
ment of  his  home  ;   while,  in  the  land  of  long  frosts. 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  303 

hnlf  of  his  labors  are  swallowed  up  in  the  service  of 
that  unrelenting,  unproducing  despot — Winter. 

It  becomes  thus  far  a  question  of  serious  considera- 
tion, to  a  mechanic  or  farmer  of  limited  means,  where 
and  how  he  may  best  secure  a  safe,  pleasant,  and 
independent  homestead,  in  a  land  where  snow  and 
ice  do  not  reign  half  the  year,  to  devour  inost  of  the 
earnings  of  the  summer. 

I  have  endeavored  to  answer  this  question,  by 
keeping  from  month  to  month  an  accurate  diary  of 
what  I  myself  accomplished  during  one  year  in  Santo 
Domingo,  almost  without  any  other  capital  than  the 
labor  of  my  own  hands. 

This  diary  has  been  written  from  time  to  time  as 
my  work  Aveut  on.  I  have  carefully  given  to  each 
season  of  the  year  its  own  peculiar  duties,  together 
with  the  results  of  my  actual  experience.  So  far  as 
it  goes,  I  can  safely  declare  it  may  be  relied  on  by 
the  emigrant  to  any  part  of  tropical  America,  although 
the  practical  observations  were  made  on  the  south 
coast  of  Spanish  Hayti.  This  magnificent  island — the 
favorite  of  Columbus — is,  as   the  reader   is  aware, 


304         Life    in     St.    Domingo. 

next  adjoining  Cuba,  and,  of  all  the  "West  India 
group,  nearest  apj)roacliing  that  island  in  size,  cli- 
mate, and  varied  extent  of  its  products.  It  is  now 
under  the  Spanish  rule,  and  possesses  guarantees  of 
personal  liberty,  to  subjects  and  aliens,  white  and 
black,  that  cannot  be  questioned  or  set  aside  by  any 
future  rulers  under  the  Spanish  Crown,  as  these 
guarantees  form  part  of  the  conditions  of  its  annex- 
ation. 

In  conclusion,  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  that,  as  a 
poor  man,  I  decided  to  seek  a  home  in  a  tropical 
climate,  for  three  reasons  : 

1.  In  a  climate  of  perpetual  summer  my  labor 
would  procure  me  a  much  larger  variety,  and  a  more 
continued  succession  of  fruits,  vegetables,  and  general 
comforts,  than  the  same  amount  of  work  would  com- 
mand in  a  cold  cUmate. 

2.  I  knew  I  could  create  the  necessary  buildings 
for  shelter,  as  well  as  provide  needful  clothing  for  my 
family  the  year  round,  with  much  smaller  means  in  a 
climate  without  winter. 

3.  I  could   continue   my  work   progressively  the 


Life     in     St.    Domingo.  305 

whole  year,  without  being  brought  to  a  stand  still, 
for  from  one-third  to  one-half  of  the  circle  of  twelve 
months,  by  the  frost-locked  earth.  Thus,  I  could 
allow  myself  a  remission  from  out-door  work,  at  least 
one-third  of  the  laboring  hours  of  every  day.  I 
knew  I  could  allow  myself  three  hours  of  the  noon- 
day, at  least,  for  relaxation,  for  readhig,  or  lighter 
employments  in  the  cool  house-shade,  and  yet  at  the 
end  of  the  year,  or  a  series  of  years,  I  should  have 
accomplished  as  mucli  in  cultivating  and  improving 
my  homestead,  as  I  could  have  done  at  the  North  by 
working  hard  all  the  time.  One-third  of  a  farmer's 
time  in  the  North  is  consumed  in  providing  extra 
food  and  shelter  for  man  and  beast  during  the  hard, 
unproducing  winter. 

Every  month  I  have  passed  within  the  tropics  has 
confirmed  and  deepened  my  certain  knowledge  of  the 
superior  advantages  of  a  summer  climate,  for  a  work- 
ing farmer  of  narrow  means,  especially  if  he  labors 
systematically  and  with  intelligence. 

For  myself  I  can  truly  say,  although  my  life  has 
been  in  a  degree  soUtary,  that  the  past  year  has  been 


306  Life     in     St.    Domingo. 

the  happiest  of  ray  existence.  In  a  few  Aveeks  I 
hope  to  welcome  my  dear  brother  and  his  two  sons. 
This  will  afford  me  the  companionship  and  society 
of  my  own  race  and  kindred,  the  want  of  which  is 
positively  the  only  drawback  I  have  experienced 
during  my  residence  in  this  beautifid  island. 


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